would answer. “All right, we can be there in ten minutes.”
“Be where?” I asked as he snapped the phone shut and put it away.
“A few blocks from here, corner of Twelfth and Grover. A car is coming for us.”
“I’ll never be able to track you in a car without their noticing.”
“We’ll end up within a few blocks of the theater, I’m certain.”
“Yeah, and fanning that out in four directions doesn’t narrow it down. After what Wyatt just told us about Snow and Cole, I’m not letting you two out of my sight.”
“You may not have a choice,” Wyatt said. “It’s more important to head down to Parker’s Palace and make sure—”
“No. Absolutely not.”
“Should I make that an order?”
I snorted. “Good luck with that,
“It’s in my phone memory. Why?”
“Because I think I know how to track you once you’re in their car.”
Chapter Twenty-one
6:10 P.M.
Being on the outs with the Triads meant I had no access to all their fun surveillance equipment, hence my backup suggestion. After Phin got over it and realized it was our best option, I called Aurora and filled her in on the plan. She readily agreed to assist, leaving Ava in Joseph’s capable hands.
We separated in the motel parking lot. I climbed into the rental car while Phin and Wyatt walked. At the end of the block, they paused for the crosswalk signal, and Wyatt looked back. I held his gaze, even though I doubted he could see me from the distance. We hadn’t said good-bye and had not exchanged “good luck.” I was still angry, and he knew it. He also knew to leave it.
Once they reached the next block, I drove out of the lot and turned north. I had to cross the river again, and it was faster to go north to the Wharton Street Bridge. I spent the trip pondering my lack of weapons. Wyatt had searched the car while I called Aurora. All he found was a tire iron and an emergency roadside kit with two flares. The three items were on the passenger seat next to me, my only company.
No, not entirely true. My silver cross was a potential weapon, assuming I got close enough to Snow to use it. I preferred not to, though. While I’d do everything in my power to prevent the deaths of those uptight socialites, I couldn’t bring myself to crave Snow and Call’s blood. I understood the kind of pain that had driven them to the precipice we all stood upon.
Call/Cole and I were startlingly similar, and yet vastly different. We’d both lost our lives by someone else’s orders. We had both received our lives back from the same person: Wyatt Truman. The reasons didn’t matter, only the end result of new life—waking up alone, among strangers, unsure what had brought us to that point or where to go next. Cole’s new life had been infinitely harder than mine. I had Wyatt to center me and help me recover my memories. Cole had been alone.
Loneliness served my Gift as surely as that loneliness helped fuel Cole’s revenge.
I ditched the car two blocks north of our assumed perimeter, on the opposite side of the theater from where the Triads were searching, then moved south. Flares tucked down the back of my jeans and a tire iron held flush against my right arm, I stuck close to alleys and shadows, traveling fast and quiet. It was dusk, so the shadows were plentiful. Car traffic and the occasional pedestrian paid me no mind as I moved toward my predetermined destination.
The stone office building had seen better days. Two blocks from the theater and nestled between a cigarette outlet and a boarded-up apartment complex for sale, it was closed this Sunday night. I ducked into the alley between it and the cigarette outlet, making my way past a Dumpster full of rotting cardboard boxes. Out of sight of anyone on the street, I crouched and waited.
The seconds ticked by with the beats of my heart. I held the iron in my lap, ignoring the disgusting odors of mold and metal and old water. Far away, a car horn honked. Another answered. The cry of a bird startled me, and I looked up. Air stirred and a shadow descended into the alley. A bird with lovely caramel-colored feathers dotted with black specks and a grayish face blinked at me from the ground. Her small, hooked beak opened, and a quiet screech bounced off the stone wall behind me.
I stood up as the kestrel—on the phone, Aurora had told me her bird form—transformed. Her body grew. Feathers disappeared, creeping up to her head and back down in long, thick curls of hair, and elsewhere were replaced by delicate peach skin. Long wings shrank into arms, clawed feet into thin legs. Only Aurora’s eyes seemed to stay the same, as round and vivid blue as a woman as they had been in her kestrel form. Her stomach was still rounded and breasts were still swollen from her recent pregnancy, but she showed no modesty about her nakedness.
“They were taken two streets over, one up,” Aurora said. “Crawford Street, the brick building with the fire escape and the conservatory on its roof. It’s within viewing distance of the theater.”
“Thank you.”
“Should I continue to monitor—”
“No, I’ve got it from here.” I wasn’t letting her get into this fight, not with a baby at home—one who was probably five pounds heavier than she had been that afternoon.
Her eyes narrowed, mouth pressing into a thin line in a perfect imitation of Phin. “My family is there, too, Evangeline. I’m stronger than you think.” To prove her point, long and tapered wings grew from her back, much like Phin’s had when he bi-shifted. She let them span the width of the alley, impressive in their size and various shades of black, caramel, and white. Muscles rippled beneath the weight gain of pregnancy.
She had a point.
“Can you watch the theater?”
My request mollified her, but she continued to stand with her wings at full attention, like a guardian angel. A creature of legend and myth—just like her people were once believed to be. “Do you need a ride?” she asked.
I blinked. It wouldn’t exactly be a subtle form of travel, but activity in this part of the city was relatively quiet at dusk on a Sunday evening. Good thing we weren’t trying this during business hours on a weekday, or our picture would probably end up on the front page of someone’s conspiracy Web site. I took off my necklace and tucked it into my pocket. No sense in risking the silver.
I turned around and assumed the arms-crossed position I’d used with Phin, keeping the tire iron against my chest. She drew up behind me, breasts pressing into my back. Definitely the closest I’d ever been to a naked woman. Her arms looped around my ribs, locking tight.
“Hold on,” she said.
The warning was almost too late for me to brace. We were up and roaring through the air, sound beat by her wings and the rush of wind in my ears. I hadn’t expected her speed or strength, but she carried me with ease. Over the rooftops, down two blocks, and then she zoomed so low to the empty street I nearly screamed, sure we were about to crash. One more street in that direction, and then she zoomed sharply left, into yet another alley.
This one was wider than the others, big enough for a delivery van to drive through, and empty of any trash containers. She set me down on shaking legs, and I sucked in air, realizing for the first time that I’d forgotten to breathe during our flight. My chest ached from the pressure of the tire iron.
“Holy shit,” I muttered, still panting.
“Follow this alley to its end, then turn right,” she said, all business. “Across to your left is a fire escape and the building you need. Good luck, Evangeline.”
“You, too, and be careful.”
With a beaming smile, she transformed back into her kestrel form and flew into the darkening sky. I took off down the alley at a run, grateful for the proximity. The fire escape ladder wasn’t extended. Not that it mattered. I
