and the woman, Delilah, was in back with her. The man that had tried to hurt her was on the floor, with his ankles and wrists bound and a burlap sack over his head. Every time he started to move Delilah would kick him again as a reminder.
Lance had taken a piece of charcoal from the ruined house and drawn a complicated mark on the unconscious man's forehead before pulling the sack over his head. She didn't know what that was supposed to do, but it seemed to satisfy Lance.
Faye had started to ask questions in the car, but Delilah had shushed her, explaining that if the General, whoever that was, decided to let this man go, then the less he knew the better. Faye had a suspicion that Delilah had just said that out loud so the man on the floor would have some hope, and maybe that would make him more cooperative. Or maybe she just didn't want to talk. After all, Faye thought, why would a beautiful, sophisticated woman, that could jump across a vacant lot and throw men through brick walls want to waste her time talking to a hayseed bumpkin from El Nido by way of Ada, Oklahoma?
The only other conversation was when Lance apologized for his swearing and called her little lady. He said that he tended to cuss more when his mind was in more than one body at a time.
So Faye went back to spinning in her head, examining the car, the finest thing that she'd ever ridden in, all shiny chrome and bright blue paint and soft leather, intricate mirrors on top of the spare tires, and a little golden angel on the end of the hood. She watched the ocean, amazed at how far it seemed to go until you could see the curve of the world at the edges, and even the people she was riding with, at least two of them just as special, if not more so, than she was. It was all very intimidating.
They turned off the main road onto a windy gravel path. They drove under a stone arch with elaborate writing on it. Faye could read, but these letters didn't look right. They looked more like what had been scratched in the ashes of the burned house than normal words. There was a blocky shack behind the gate, and someone watched them through a dark window as they passed. Or maybe something, Faye thought, as the shape swiveled to follow them, and it looked entirely too triangular to be a person, unless they were wearing a very strange hat.
The house at the end of the lane was spectacular. It was three times the size of the Vierras' milk barn, only instead of holding cows, it was made for rich people, and it was on top of a giant finger of land that stuck out into the ocean. Three sides around the house turned into cliffs that ended in waves crashing on black rocks far below. The front of the house had tall white pillars and more windows than she could quickly count.
They parked inside a garage, which seemed strange that there would be a space actually inside the house to leave your car, but this was big enough that they could probably park four tractors inside and have room to spare. She was having a hard time wrapping her brain around the kind of wealth it would take to build something like this, and suddenly the little wad of money hidden in her traveling skirt seemed pathetic.
'Delilah, would you kindly drag this piece of trash downstairs and lock him in the basement?' Lance asked. 'We'll get to him in a bit.'
'My pleasure.' Delilah grabbed the man by one ankle and yanked him out onto the cement like he was a piece of bad luggage.
'She seems kind of scary,' Faye said to the two men once Delilah was gone, the man bumping painfully down the stairs behind her. 'Is she going to kill him?'
Francis shook his head. 'That gunsel? The people he works for shot Delilah's father down in cold blood. For all we know, he might be one of the ones that did it. Serves him right.'
Faye studied him. Francis seemed like a nice young man. Polite, friendly, well spoken, she even had to admit that he was rather handsome. He talked like he came from the big city, but not from the poor big city, but a place with schools, and houses like this. He turned and caught her staring and she looked away quickly. Then again, he had blown a man's head off earlier without hesitation. She reminded herself that she needed to be on guard. It wasn't like she knew these people.
Lance gestured for the door. 'Let's go get that thumb looked at. Never been bit by a squirrel before, though I have bit people as a squirrel. It looks like it hurts. You're probably hungry too. We'll get you a room where you can clean up before supper.'
Faye looked down at her shabby dress. It was covered in dirt, coal dust, and speckled with dull red drops of dried blood. She had even gotten the seat dirty in the car. 'Sorry for the mess,' she said sheepishly.
'What?' Lance said gruffly. 'This?' He snorted loudly. 'Girl, you don't know much about what goes on around here, but let's say that I've seen a whole lot worse. Come on. You've probably got a bunch of questions, and I've got a few myself, like who your grandpa was, why he gave you a Grimnoir knight's ring, and why those goons were following you.'
That reminded her. 'I need to speak with someone from that note. Is Pershing here? Or Christiansen? Jones? Southunder? It's really important. My Grandpa's last words were that I needed to talk to somebody named Black something.'
Francis and Lance glanced at each other. The muscular Lance only came up to Francis' shoulder, so he actually had to look up. 'Your call,' Francis said. The younger one was dressed in a fancy suit, and Lance was wearing worker's clothes and a dusty hat, but it was obvious which one was in charge.
'Nothing personal, but I want some of our people to talk to you first. I'm in charge of security around here, and nobody gets to see General Pershing until I say so.'
She had not come all this way to be turned back now. 'You listen here. I need to talk to Black somebody, my Grandpa said so.' Faye reached into her voluminous skirt and pulled out the little Tesla device. 'I think this has something to do with it.' She held it out, and Lance took it, scowling as he read the plate. 'My Grandpa was murdered by men looking for this, and I'm not going anywhere until I find out why.'
'Aww… this ain't good. Not good at all.' Lance hesitated, like he was going to keep the device, but then he shook his head and passed it back. He looked at Francis. 'I hope this ain't what I think it is. Keep an eye on her. Don't let her snoop in anything.' Then he limped away, grumbling.
'He's grouchy,' Faye said when Lance was gone.
'You'd probably like to freshen up,' Francis suggested.
When she returned from the washroom, Francis was waiting with a sandwich on a plate. 'I had the cook make this for you,' he said.
'You have servants?'
'Well, of course, this was one of my father's estates,' he answered proudly. 'The Society has been using it since the old headquarters was destroyed.'
She took the sandwich. 'It must be nice to be rich. Servants and indoor plumbing.'
'I… well…' he stammered. 'I wasn't meaning to brag. But yes, I suppose it is rather nice. Please, sit down.' He gestured toward a nearby table.
The interior of the home was amazing. Electric lights were on every wall. 'This is the nicest dining room I've ever seen,' Faye said, settling into a padded chair.
'Well… actually, this is where the help eats. The dining room is back there…' he drifted off, uncomfortable. 'Sorry, bragging again.'
For some reason his embarrassment made Faye smile. She liked this Francis. She ate her sandwich. It was good.
Lance returned a minute later. 'Here's the deal, you seem like an all right kid, Faye, but we deal with some… strange types, and there's more than a few folks who'd want nothing more than to see him dead. In fact, the predicament we're in now is because I didn't do my job a few years ago, and somehow somebody got through and put a curse on him. It ain't nothing personal, but I'll be needing to hold onto your little gun, and if you try to use any magic on the General, I will kill you. Do you understand?'
'No need to be impolite,' Francis said.
'I once saw a six-year-old slash a man's throat with spikes that came shooting out his fingers,' Lance pointed out.
'Fine,' Faye said, removing the Iver Johnson from her pocket and passing it over to Francis. 'I want that back. It cost ten whole dollars.'
They left the kitchen area, through some sort of service room, past a workshop full of machines, out into a giant foyer, then up a flight of stairs. Lance's limp was more pronounced going up the stairs, almost like one leg was shorter than the other.
'What happened to your leg?' Faye asked.
