Deadtown

news? Lucado trying to haul me ass-first out of a limo? I braced myself.

But instead of arguing, Lucado started to laugh. “What makes you think those reporters want to talk to you?”

I must have looked flabbergasted, because he laughed harder. He laughed until he had to wipe his eyes with his handkerchief.

“Didn’t you see me on CNN yesterday?”

“What, that freak show in the Zone? Honey, that’s yesterday’s news.” He wiped his eyes again, then stuffed the handkerchief back in his pocket. “The reporters ain’t here for you; they’re here for the guy inside, the guy who wants to talk to you.”

“Who’s that?”

“Aw, now you wanna ruin my surprise. Okay, okay. It’s Seth Baldwin, our next governor.”

Baldwin? Oh, my God. I’d rather have a nice little chat with Difethwr. The only thing Kane would hate more than seeing me getting out of a limo with Lucado would be seeing me cozy up to his idea of the Antichrist over a plate of scrambled eggs and sausage.

“What does Baldwin want to talk to me for?”

“That’s what we’re going inside to find out.”

I shook my head. “There is no way in hell I’m going in that diner.” Last night’s pay be damned.

“Look—”

“No, you look. Baldwin’s in there doing one of those campaign breakfasts, right? Meet everyday folks, listen to the little guy. That’s why the cameras are there.”

“Yeah, I suppose so.”

“So he’s not going to have a conversation with me while that’s going on.”

“I never said you had to talk to him on camera. Just talk to him afterward.”

“Okay, fine. I’ll talk to him after. In here.”

“But I gotta go in there. Baldwin’s expecting me.” He checked his watch. “I’m already late, damn it.”

“So go in. I’m not stopping you.”

“I said I’d have you with me.”

I crossed my arms like a stubborn two-year-old. “I’m not getting out this limo, Frank.”

“Two rides in my limo and she acts like she owns the damn thing.” Lucado closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Headstrong broads give me a headache.” He leaned forward and rapped on the partition again. It slid open. “Ain’t that right, Gordon?”

“What, sir?”

“That headstrong broads give me a headache.”

“Yes, sir.”

Lucado made a face at me, as if to say, See? Then he opened the door and climbed out before I had a chance to tell him I wasn’t a “broad.” He pushed through the crowd on the sidewalk, half of them craning for a glimpse into the diner and the other half trying to peer into the limo. Then he disappeared inside the diner.

I leaned forward. “Hey, Gordon.”

“Yes, madam?”

The head didn’t turn; the eyes didn’t flick to the rearview mirror. I spoke to the back of the chauffeur’s cap. “Didn’t anyone ever tell Frank not to call women broads?”

“Apparently not, madam.”

“Well, somebody should.”

“Yes, madam.”

I could see that Gordon and I were not likely to have much in the way of a scintillating conversation, so I sat and stared out the window. Commuters hurried by on their way to work, some pausing to see what was going on in the diner, others rushing past without breaking their stride. Kane must be on his way to the office now, too. I wondered how he’d reacted when he found out his kidnapping scheme didn’t work. He must’ve been mad as hell at those norms for bungling it. I’d bet his next move would be to call me up, pretending to play nice, like nothing had happened. He’d be in for a surprise.

A tall blonde emerged from the crowd in front of the diner. I couldn’t tell whether she’d been inside or was one of the gawkers. But I knew who she was—Sheila Gravett, the biogeneticist. I ducked down in my seat, then realized she couldn’t see me through the tinted glass. I watched her pull out her cell phone and talk for a minute, one hand to her ear to block the noise. It was likely she’d been in there, chum ming around with Baldwin. She must love the guy, with his promise to take away PAs’ limited rights. He’d make it open season on monsters like me.

Gravett snapped her phone shut and briskly walked away, toward the Common. I sighed, wondering what Gwen had decided about Maria. I’d try to talk some sense into her tomorrow, when we met for lunch.

I looked back at the diner. Why did Baldwin want to talk to me? Probably he needed me to take care of some Harpies for him. After all, that’s how I’d met his buddy Lucado. Maybe Frank had given me a reference. Or maybe Daniel had briefed him that Difethwr was on the loose inside Boston. But there was no reason to do that, since Baldwin wasn’t governor. Yet, anyway. So why would Daniel—?

Oh, no. Daniel. My heart sank. I was supposed to meet him yesterday to talk to the witches. I’d missed the meeting because of the kidnap attempt, but I’d forgotten all about Daniel. I felt like such a jerk. I remembered the warmth in his voice when we spoke on the phone, the way he’d squeezed my hand at Creature Comforts. This was terrible. I needed to let him know why I stood him up.

I leaned forward again. “Gordon, you got a cell phone?”

“No, madam.”

Shit. “Then can you drive me to a pay phone? It’ll take two minutes, I swear. Frank will never know we were gone.”

Gordon was silent. I took this to mean he was considering my request.

“We’ll tell him the cops moved us along, and you had to circle the block. Please, Gordon. It’s urgent.”

More silence.

“I’ll give you twenty dollars. Twenty bucks, Gordon, for two minutes’ work.”

Gordon seemed to have lost the power of speech.

“Okay, fifty. It’s all I’ve got on me—if you’ll leave me fifty cents to make the call.”

Still nothing. That chauffeur’s cap didn’t move an inch.

Then the engine started up, and we cut off a taxi as we pulled into traffic. Over the blare of the taxi’s horn, I could hear, “Very good, madam.”

20

I STOOD AT A PAY PHONE IN FRONT OF A DRUGSTORE, listening to Daniel’s home phone ring. Butterflies galore, but this time there were lots of different kinds—the usual ones, definitely, but also anxiety that I’d stood him up and worry that he’d needed me at that meeting. I felt awful. It’d be reassuring just to hear his voice.

The line clicked as he picked up, and I felt my heartbeat go into overdrive.

“Hello?” said a woman’s voice, thick with sleep.

I nearly dropped the phone. “Oh, um, I think I must have dialed the wrong number. I’m looking for Daniel Costello.”

“No, Danny’s here.” Danny? “Hang on.” There was a thunk as she put the phone down. Her voice called out dimly, “Danny? Phone’s for you.”

My heart was beating harder than ever, but now it was beating somewhere down in the region of my toes.

Daniel came on the line with a voice like sandpaper. “Costello.”

“Did I wake you up?” Or maybe I’d interrupted some bedroom activity besides sleeping. The thought gave me a moment of grim satisfaction.

“It’s okay. I’d have been up in a minute, anyway.” He paused, and I pictured him running a hand through his blond curls. I wondered what he was wearing: Pajamas? A bathrobe? Boxer shorts? Nothing at all? “Um, who is