Mist

“I do understand,” Gabi said, rubbing her hand across her wet face. “Those things are giants. They came to get Ryan. This is all some kind of war.”

“Whatever Dainn might have told you isn’t enough,” Mist said. “But I promise I’ll explain as much as I can once Ryan’s okay. Right now I need you to listen to me. There are a few important things I have to take care of, and I don’t know if I’ll be able to speak to you again before the ambulance arrives. The police will be coming, too. Dainn and I could get into bad trouble, and things could get very complicated for you.”

Gabi stared at her, defiance on her deceptively innocent face. “If it wasn’t for Ryan, I’d just go. But I won’t leave him.” She glanced at her friend, her lips turning down. “What do you want me to do?”

Mist leaned closer so the stranger couldn’t overhear if he came to. “I told the dispatcher that we heard noises in the gym when we were sleeping, and we came down to check it out. There were three men, and one of them hurt Ryan when he tried to stop them. They got away. You don’t know anything else. Got it?”

“It would be better if I didn’t talk to them at all.”

“I need to make sure they don’t start looking around the house until I’m finished. Do whatever the paramedics tell you to, and take care of Ryan. I’ll come after you as soon as I can.”

She shook her head, flinging her dark hair away from her face. “No. Call the ambulance guys and tell them not to come.”

“Gabi, you know Ryan might be badly hurt.”

“I know.” She looked down at her hands. “I can help him.”

“Gabi—”

“I know how,” she said. “I was just afraid to try it before.”

“Try what, Gabi?”

“Do you know about curandismo?”

Mist had heard about it. Curandismo was a kind of folk magic, usually healing, that was practiced by certain men and women in Latin culture. It was strongly based on their Catholic faith. As she and Dainn had discussed earlier, there were mortals who could work magic, but they were few and practiced under a shadow of anonymity.

“Are you saying you’re a curandera, Gabi?” Mist asked gently.

“You think I’m crazy,” Gabi said, “but I know how. Mi abuela taught me in Mexico, before my brother and me came here. I can heal him.”

Mist could understand why the girl would want to claim a gift to match Ryan’s in some way, even if it was all fantasy. “I can see you believe in it, Gabi,” she said, “but—”

“Let me try.” Her eyes filled with tears. “I don’t want the police to come. You have to let me try.”

Something in the passion of Gabi’s voice struck Mist with doubt. It was remotely possible. Two kids with magic might be drawn together. They might be drawn to Mist.

“Por favor,” Gabi said. “You said you had important things to do. Give me your phone. I’ll call them and tell them not to come. If I can’t help Ryan, I’ll call the ambulance guys again. I promise.”

Mist looked at Ryan. It wouldn’t make much difference now if she could comfort Gabi by letting her try to help her friend. The ambulance was bound to show up any minute.

She looked at the stranger again. He was finally showing signs of waking up. She had to work fast.

“Okay,” she said. She pulled out her cell phone and handed it to Gabi, rose, and then started toward the stranger. He was still too dazed to resist when Mist threw him over her shoulder and carried him into the hall. There was no sign of Dainn except a smear of drying blood on the hardwood floor and the wall near the door.

Gritting her teeth, Mist hauled the mortal straight to the kitchen and into the laundry room. Kirby and Lee, crammed in the small space between the washer and dryer, hissed and streaked from the room, glossy coats bristling like a porcupine’s quills.

Mist dropped the man to the floor near the door to the tiny yard and removed the belt from his wrists. He opened his eyes and slowly focused on her face.

“Easy,” she said when he moved to rise. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

“Where are the kids?” he demanded, his baritone voice hard with accusation.

“The ambulance is on its way,” Mist said. “They’ll be taken care of.”

“Where’s your friend?” he said, biting off the word.

“Gone.”

He moved again, and she pushed him back down. His eyes widened as he felt her strength.

But he recovered from his surprise quickly enough. “I don’t know how you know that lunatic,” he said, “but you helped him and urged him leave. You’re an accomplice to murder.”

“Murder?” Mist laughed grimly. “You have no idea what you saw.”

“Why don’t you tell me?”

All at once his voice had gone soft, almost sympathetic, as if he hoped to lull her into some kind of confession. She knew better than to fall into that trap.

“Those men attacked the loft,” she said. “They tried to kill us. Dainn protected the kids and defended himself.”

“Protected them?” the stranger said, losing his brief calm. “You let him—”

“I tried to get the kids away,” Mist interrupted, “but they got back into the gym.”

“Are they yours?”

“I don’t intend to be interrogated by you or anyone else,” she said.

“You do realize that your friend threatened the boy before you interfered?”

“I told you he’d never harm them.”

“You made it clear you thought he’d kill me.”

“I wasn’t going to take any chances.”

“Then you told him to go, even though you knew he could hurt others.”

His accusation was painfully close to the truth. “I couldn’t control him,” Mist said with complete honesty. “I did calm him down for a little while. But I don’t believe he’d hurt innocent people. Just the ones who attack him and his friends.” She glanced at his swollen nose. “I’d say you got off easy.”

The stranger’s hand flew to his face. “You think that’s funny?”

“I’m deadly serious.” She held his hostile gaze. “Now you can tell me who you are, and what you’re doing here.”

“Who are you?” he demanded.

“This is my house. You’re as much an intruder as the men who tried to kill us.”

“Koji Tashiro,” he said shortly.

“And what are you, Koji Tashiro? A Good Samaritan who just happened to be walking by at eight in the morning?”

He must have heard the sarcasm in her voice, but his demeanor didn’t change. “I was here looking for someone,” he said. “But that’s not the issue now, is it?”

“It is to me.” She rose to her feet, taking full advantage of the potential threat her looming height presented.

“I asked you if those kids were yours,” he said, staring up at her calmly.

“They’re street kids,” she said. “They were hungry and scared, and I gave them food and a place to sleep.”

“They’d have been safer on the streets,” he said.

He was right, and for that she had no excuse. “I didn’t expect someone to attack my home.”

“But you obviously have some idea who those men were,” he said.

“I didn’t know them,” she said. “As I told you, they were trying to kill us.”

“Very few people, even hardened criminals, just burst into a house and start killing. Do you have any enemies?”

Only the worst, Mist thought. “None that I know of,” she said.

He weighed her words and frowned. “Then it must be your violent friend. Did he get on the wrong side of some drug lord?” His expression softened to one of earnest concern. “If he’s involved in trafficking, he could bring