Laura Anne Gilman (14 page)

“You should have come out here and gotten us, and we could have made a plan. Instead, you went gung ho, and she ran. The moment you left the restaurant, she up and disappeared.” AJ had gotten in behind her, sitting on the seat opposite them. The other super had gotten in front, she assumed, or been left behind to guard their flank, as the car pulled away from the curb and slid into the afternoon traffic.

Jan had only ever been in a limo once before, for her prom. She’d felt nervous and needed to throw up then, too.

“I’m sorry.”

AJ growled. “No, you’re not. But you won’t do it again, will you?”

He was right, on both accounts. “No.”

The
lupin
sighed and leaned back, understanding her negative for agreement. “This car costs a fortune, you know that? But it keeps us moving, and it’s harder to track than a bus. I take it the date was a bust?”

Jan nodded her head, still shaking a little from the adrenaline, not even wondering how AJ knew what they’d been doing. Martin must have told him, when he’d disappeared. “He was human. And for all our planning, I just stumbled across one today, about to munch on her own prey.”

Martin shifted, and she shot him a glare. AJ or not, she still hadn’t forgiven him for disappearing on her back at the restaurant. “How many are there, and why can’t we hunt them down directly?” She had assumed that preters were rare, elusive, and needed drawing out. That had been the only damn reason she’d agreed to be bait.

Well, that and they hadn’t given her any time to refuse. “Look, you asked me because I knew tech and could figure out what they’re doing, lay a trail for them to follow like some kind of rat trap. But the truth is that technology doesn’t always speed things up—especially if you’re waiting for someone else on the other end. This bait-and-hook scheme isn’t going to work. It takes too long—there were three others I’ve got lunches set up for, but that’s four days and they could all be busts—and you said Tyler doesn’t have much time, not if we’re going to get him back.”

Back in useful condition. They had said if the preters held him too long... No. The thought of Tyler looking at her, empty-eyed, nobody home anymore, was not acceptable. Even though she was furious at him, she wanted him to be aware when she bitched him out for being such a skanky two-timer.

“You’re suggesting that we should canvass every coffee shop and café in the city, on the off chance a preter shows up? And hope that she or he doesn’t scent us and spook?” AJ’s scorn was immediate. “Even assuming that they come here on a regular basis, without knowing where they are going to meet their prey, and when... We can’t scent each other out of an entire city, but in close proximity, the moment we know they’re around—they know we’re there, too. That’s why we need humans to do this, Jan. Otherwise we wouldn’t have involved you at all.”

The car swerved, just as she was going to respond to that, and Martin’s hand on hers squeezed tightly. It might have been a reaction to the car’s movement...or it might have been a warning. Jan, still smarting from AJ’s earlier words, took it as a warning, and bit back what she was going to say.

“We need one alive. We need it bound and within our grasp, to get the truth from it.”

“Any preter?”

“One of the hunters,” AJ amended. “One of those who know how to cross over—and can tell us how to shut down their connection, to expose them for what they are.”

“And rescue Tyler.”

“And rescue Tyler, yes.”

Jan felt a flicker of unease at how her boyfriend was becoming an afterthought, but forced it down. This was the only chance she had. They might have their agenda, but getting Ty home was hers.

“All right. Fine. Bait and snatch. But if it’s mainly women doing the hunting, which it seems like from the responses we were getting, what then? I can’t go in wearing drag—” well, she could, but she didn’t think that would be effective “—and if they can tell you’re there—” which explained why Martin hadn’t been in the restaurant with her, and it would have been nice if he’d thought to tell her that! “—then how are we going to approach them?”

“Set up the date, and then scope them out from a distance. They might scent us, but they’re on our territory, they have to assume it could be an innocent walk-by.” AJ was talking as if she was a slightly dim ten-year-old for not figuring that out.

“Uh-huh.” If she were trying to kidnap humans in order to invade, she wouldn’t assume anything, and she suspected the preters wouldn’t, either. AJ sounded and acted tough, but she suddenly wondered if he really was hard enough. So far, everything they’d done had been defensive, not offensive. Even the attempts to lure them were bait-and-wait, passive, not attacking the problem at its source.

The car turned another corner, and Jan wondered, for the first time, if her supernatural allies actually knew what the hell they were doing.

“How close do you have to be, before they smell you?”

“Smell?”

“You know what I mean.” She was tired and as annoyed as he was—maybe even more so because it hadn’t been his apartment that had been broken in to and god-knows-what and all her stuff lost and she might not even have a job anymore. And it wasn’t his boyfriend who was being held captive by evil mind-sucking elves. If she had to pick up the slack and figure out what needed to be done... Well, it wouldn’t be the first time, but he got her into this, damn it. He and Martin, and Tyler, who couldn’t keep it in his pants.

“We’re not sure,” AJ said. “It’s been a while since...well. It’s better to stay out of line-of-sight. A lot probably depends on if they’re looking for us, same as if we’re looking for them. And thanks to you, they’re paranoid now. They’ll be more careful.”

“Fine. I get it.” This wasn’t the best plan, but it was the only plan they had. Right now. “Give me a damn laptop and somewhere with connectivity, and I’ll get you some more chances.”

She had to. Tyler was depending on her.

Chapter 9

H
e had woken in the starlight, restless and alone. The air was still and quiet; no insects sang here at night, no birds at dawn. Drawing on his robe, he wandered down the hallway, the rose-colored tile floor cool under his feet, until he came to the archway that led into the garden.

She was there, sitting on a stone bench that looked out, away from the sleeping garden and out into the misty fields beyond. He had no idea what lay beyond those fields, if there was a city filled with life and lights, or farmlands, or nothing at all, the world fading out into mist until there was only the void.

“You’re restless.” Her voice was a rope that drew him to her, and he did not even think to resist.

“Something bothers you.”

“And that drew you from slumber, and to my side.” She sounded more thoughtful than usual, less amused at his expense. He knew that about her now, that she took amusement from his confusion and pain, and did not resent it. How could he? Her whim was his reason.

“I have been here too long, and I grow weary of these walls,” she said. “Weary and fretful, and I do not like either sensation. I know the logic, I approve of the reason, I agreed to the limits, agreed to this experiment, and what I must sacrifice. But we are not meant to be caged, penned like beasts, told whither and when we might go. Not this long, without respite. Not once we have tasted the airs of freedom.”

He had no idea what she was talking about. She wasn’t speaking to him, for all that he was her only company.

“He orders us to his bidding as though it were his right to do so, and yet I may not go out into the world, not with my work undone. He is fretful, worried, bitter, and I have no desire to listen to the others bleating at my failures while they sit and do nothing. And all the while it sits there, taunting us.
She
taunts us
.
”

He sat, quiet and empty, letting her words fill him, direct him. He must have done it well, because she turned to look at him, considering. Something inside him quailed, some least remnant of fear, and then was silenced by her presence.

“But, yes, I have options they do not; options that could give me an advantage.” Her beautiful eyes were now clouded, as though she were looking somewhere that he could not see. “Yes. If it could be done, it would put me ahead, perhaps be the chance I need. I could claim it as a test, and none might gainsay me. All I need do is manage it.”

Her voice softened, and he could see that she was aware of him again. Her entire demeanor changed, from distant to coaxing, enticing. “Would you accompany me, sweet man? Would you walk beyond these gardens, your hand in mine?”

There was a moment of doubt, something like cold sweat in his mind: leave? Go beyond the silvery walls and the pale-misted gardens? No. Oh, no. He could not leave. He could not leave; there was nowhere else for him to go. Leaving was... But...the frantic skittering of his thoughts halted, running against the wall of her words. She was leaving? If she left and asked him to go with her, if he were to accompany her—that would be all right, surely. He would not be punished for that, not if she commanded. But she had not commanded; she had asked. Was this a trick? A test? What was the right answer?

Fear and love were too intermingled to unbind. “I would not be parted from you.” She was cold and cruel in her love, but she had claimed him, protected him. Without her, he would be at the mercy of the others, the ones with the hard hands and fierce tools, and mercy was not a thing they knew.

“You will walk with me through the veil? Take my hand and carry me through?”

He had no understanding of what she asked, but he knew what she wanted him to say. “Yes.”

Her smile was clear and bright, the sun finally broken through the ever-present fog. “Excellent. Come.”

She was standing, without his sensing her move, but he was used to that by now. Something moved in his memory, sluggish and deep; they had done this before? No. He would have remembered that, surely. There was nothing save the cold palace, the gardens and the thorn chair. And her.

He placed his hand in hers, the cool, smooth fingers closing around his, pulling him to his feet and into—not an embrace, but an enclosure, her arms going around him, sliding into place like... He could almost remember the thing it reminded him of now, almost, but the memory was hidden behind mist and thorn-sharp pain. He had learned his lesson well: the only way out was to forget. He let the memory go.

There was only now, only her holding him, her breath cool on his neck, and then they were walking off the path, into the mist, the dampness wrapping around them.

“Lead the way,” she said to him, urging him forward, and he didn’t understand, didn’t know how he could lead rather than follow, but once commanded, his feet found the path underneath them, step by step.

“Yes.” Her voice curled around inside him, her very self carried within him, the prickling feeling in his flesh as though the thorns were within him, pushing out.

There was a shout, distant and muffled, as though someone had taken note of their leaving and objected, and then the mist thinned into nothingness, his skin burned, his lungs cramped for air, his eyes and nose dried out, and they were...

Elsewhere.

The noise took him by surprise—like a blow he’d felt before, his body cringing in reflex until it recognized it as sound. It washed around him, did not hurt him. Her hand was still in his, the skin oddly warm and wet against his skin as the screeching, shuddering noise was replaced by someone yelling at them, furious and scared.

“You morons!”

He wore pants, and a shirt, and shoes upon his feet; he did not remember changing, from that moment in the starlight garden to this moment under too-bright sunlight, but he did not have time to question it, or the feeling of familiarity the clothing gave him, as he pulled her out of the roadway, away from the traffic and onto the relative safety of the sidewalk.

The cars—yes, cars—moved past them, and other than a few odd looks from people passing by, no one paid them any heed. He knew this, but he couldn’t recognize it, once the moment of danger was past, couldn’t remember how to act.

“Walk,” she told him, and he did, some instinct setting his feet upon a certain route. Down this street, past that storefront, the display of bicycles and mannequins that were different from the last time he had seen them.

When was that time? How did he know this place? His brain turned, but nothing more fell out. This place was both familiar and alien, and he did not know what to do.

Stjerne raised her face to the sunlight, her pale features flushed as though she had a fever, and her smile sent shivers through him. As though he had drawn her attention back to himself, she tilted her face and directed that smile at him. “Take me somewhere I can get a cup of coffee.”

For an instant, he wanted only to run, to flee: she was a beast, baring too-sharp teeth and intending him harm. The instinct passed; she trusted him to lead, to keep her from harm. He focused on that and let the odd sense of having been here before fade into background noise in his head, just enough of a hum to lead him and not enough to interfere. Her hand on his arm was the only thing that was real, even as other people moved past and around them, cars and bicycles passing them on the street, the smells in the air harder, stronger than the misted air he had been breathing....

“Here.”

A small café with tables outside, people sitting with dogs that looked up and studied them warily as they walked by, through the door with a gently tingling bell overhead, and then they were surrounded by the thick smell of coffee and pastries.

Something at the base of his spine twitched, a deep, instinctive longing for something lost. Her hand moved, as though she sensed it, to cover that spot.

The longing stilled, filled by her presence, and she led him to a table at the front of the café, where a couple was just getting up.

“Wait here,” she said, drawing out a chair for him.

He sat, obedient, and waited.

* * *

If first dates were hell, blown dates were purgatory. The café was bustling, people waiting for tables. Jan sat in the wrought-iron chairs that were prettier than they were comfortable, and tried not to fidget. She hated waiting even on good days, and now, with the time ticking off constantly in the back of her head, a monotone of “Tyler’s in danger, Tyler’s in danger,” she begrudged every minute wasted.

He’d been missing for fifteen days. She’d asked Elsa once if time ran the same for preters, in their sphere or whatever, as it did for humans. Elsa’s discomfort with the question had made her not ask again.

Maybe, maybe, time was slower there, like legends said. If so, maybe Tyler thought he’d only been gone for fifteen hours.

This was her third “bait-date” in two days, and she suspected that this one was going to blow her off. Had she sounded too needy? Had she rushed too hard, trying to follow AJ’s instructions? Whatever the reason, the guy was twenty minutes late and hadn’t called or texted.

“This isn’t going to work.” The couple at the table next to her gave her a pitying look, her coffee cup untouched, the chair opposite her unused. It seemed as though the café was filled with couples, old and young, and she was the only one seated alone. Waiting. Unwanted.

Tick. Tick.
Tyler’s in danger. Tyler’s in danger.
And she sat here, and waited for her quarry to come to her.

“Damn it, AJ, I told you this wasn’t going to work.” But when challenged, she hadn’t been able to come up with anything better: short of sending the supers out into the streets to find another preter, and that, she had been told, was not possible. They had only so many volunteers, and more than half of them were not the sort you let out in the general human public. And once they got too close, they’d spook them off, anyway.

No, it had to be her. Even when a woman responded, they sent Jan in, to check her out.

“If you can’t convince more of your own people to help, why not bring in more humans?” she had asked, at her wit’s end. “I’m only one person—you could cover three or four times as much ground, just by bringing in more people. And a guy would be able to go right up to them, be proper bait.”

AJ had stared at her, then stalked off; she could almost see the sway of a tail, stiff with annoyance, as he walked away. Martin, who had been sitting beside her as she worked on the laptop, only shook his head.

“You’re right. Of course you’re right. And how are we to convince them? If you were to approach even your closest friend and say ‘we need to rescue my leman from these creatures who have taken him captive...’ How would she respond?”

He was right, of course. Most would have her tanked to the eyelids ten minutes after she’d finished her story, convinced that she had lost her mind. And yet, Jan had almost called Glory, anyway; Glory of all her friends might be hardheaded and clear-eyed enough to see that Jan was not crazy, had not had a nervous breakdown or psychotic episode. Or she might play the concerned friend, and have Jan committed, saying she had always known that Tyler would be bad news, in the end.

She couldn’t risk it, couldn’t take the chance. Not with the clock ticking and Tyler still in preter hands.

All she had to do was hook one preter, and he would tell them how to find Tyler. And she could bring him home again. That was how it would go. Jan frowned, her forehead creasing. Yes. AJ had said that only someone who cared, who really loved, could defeat a preter. The way Martin didn’t care about anyone, not really...she had to be part of the rescue effort. All she had to do was nab them a preter.

Jan took a sip of her coffee, which had gone from lukewarm to cold, and looked down at the cell phone again. It wasn’t hers, but one that Martin’s friend had given her, along with the laptop: a prepaid phone, and no one to talk to, no one to call. She was alone, dressed up as bait and sent into the shark tank.

No, not alone. Martin and AJ had gone nose-to-nose—muzzle to snout?—about that, and AJ had been the one to blink. She was assured that there were supers all around her, watching and waiting, but staying far enough away to—hopefully—not spook any preters she might meet. The thought wasn’t comforting at all.

On impulse, she shifted the phone in her hands and started typing, the quick thumb-moves of an experienced texter.

Hey there. No time, kinda busy but wanted to give you a wave. Life crazy. Let you know the deets asap. <3.

She hit Send and watched the flicker that meant the message was en route. It was late in the U.K., but Glory would still be awake. If she was by her phone—

The phone gave a faint beep, and she looked down, surprised at how fast the response had come.

u ok?

Not Glory. Martin. After she had bitched at him about abandoning her in the first restaurant, he had become almost overly protective. He’d even told AJ to go away, that they were doing fine on their own, like they’d been told. And AJ had gone, muttering.

Given a cell phone that matched hers, Martin had also taken to texting every three minutes, it seemed, letting her know where he was (down the street), what his coffee tasted like (bad), how many times he didn’t hit on the waitress (three, and the third time she gave him her phone number. Probably a fake one, just to shut him up, Jan had thought but hadn’t texted back).

Bored,
she texted back now.
Think this is bust.

idiot. i’d meet you for coffee any time.

Jan almost smiled.
You say that to all the girls.

true.

No matter what Toba had warned, after a week living with him, she was starting to get the hang of Martin. It helped that she’d been able to surf the Net a little while waiting for responses, do some more research. The sites she all found were fiction—she thought—but the details were pretty clear. Kelpies were water-horses, yeah. Handsome ponies who lured children onto their backs, and then drowned them without remorse.

Martin, to a T.

Their other form was human, and they were given the same theme of seduce-and-kill AJ had ascribed to the preters.