"I shot at him."
Sweet Christ on a crutch . . . Well, that explained a few things.
"Why'd the hell you go and do a stupid thing like that?"
The shadow seemed surprised by Caroline's reaction. But then, so was she. Witch-sense gestalt, Granny Weatherwax's headology, the Dragon bond she shared with Gary, whatever, the scene didn't add up to danger. Didn't add up to damn-all anything.
Insufficient data, need more input.
Chapter Twenty-One
Jane slipped her hands under the table and wiped sweat off her palms, trying to quiet the cold shakes. This was a hell of a strange way to meet Gary's family, and he wasn't even here to back her up. Wasn't anywhere. How would this brown-skin girl with kung-fu-master calm and too many muscles react to someone taking potshots at her brother? Jane wasn't armed, not even a knife, and it made her feel like she was walking around naked.
Her reflexes checked the food court exits, three of them in three different directions, busy evening in the student union but nothing dangerous in sight. No uniforms in particular, either kampus kops or the real kind. And she had her back tucked into a nice, safe, defensive corner so nobody could sneak up on her. They'd done a funny dance over that, both of them going for the corner chair, before this Indian girl with Gary's nose and eyes and cheekbones stopped, gave a crooked half-smile, and waved her in.
The girl . . . Caroline . . . put down her double-shot espresso and sighed, relaxing, as if she'd been needing that all day. Apparently a caffeine addict.
And a lot calmer than she ought to be, facing someone who'd admitted to shooting at her brother. Facing someone who'd damn near ambushed her in a dark alley. The calm of a person who didn't live with fear, who felt confident she could deal with whatever came along. Jane wondered what it felt like. She concentrated on trying to match it.
Now that brown face focused, tilting a little to one side, shaking her head, weighing what she saw. "You aren't anything like I imagined. I mean, Gary described you as somewhat . . . vivid?"
That almost made Jane smile, easing a bit of the tension in her jaw. "Costume party. If people see green hair, orange hair, and the Technicolor Goth clothes, that's all they see. They never see the face. Student grunge is the same thing — faceless. I could be wearing a mask."
The girl was easy to talk to, just like Gary. But that calm felt almost like the eye of a hurricane, a deceptive quiet centered on waiting violence. This girl could be dangerous. She was seductive, not sex but trust, almost magical. Jane had to remind herself to watch her tongue. It didn't help that the girl looked so much like him, felt like him in so many ways.
Speaking of which . . .
"How come you're so hard to see? Gary's like that — nobody notices him unless he wants them to. I have to stare at you, and even then you fade away."
"Defense mechanism. Chameleon blood mixed into both families. 'Cause we're all so good-looking, like that Beatles song. Plus, I'm a witch. Most of Stonefort's strange, you know. Pirates and dragons. Rings of mysterious standing stones straight out of ancient Wales. Shape-changers and witches and haunted houses. Better get used to weird stuff if you're going to hang around with us."
Then she chuckled. "Actually, it's just a body-language trick that anyone can learn. Nothing magic about it. Certain postures and moves, your eyes see me, but your subconscious decides I'm not important and sends your brain on to something more interesting."
She said it all so casually, it almost slid right past. And then she faded again. Jane could see the chair and the next table right through her. If she squinted and stared real hard, the girl was still there. It made Jane's head hurt. Chameleon, as if Caroline's skin and clothes changed color to match her background.
And then she was back, solid, eyes narrowed and lips thinned down. "So how did you find me, then? Makes a girl curious."
Jane swallowed and unclenched her hands in her lap, forced her shoulders down, trying to hide how tense she felt. This girl did the good-cop/bad-cop routine as a solo act. Set 'em up and knock 'em down. Keep the suspect off balance, groggy. And the good-cop made it so easy to talk to her.
"I read Gary's email and knew you'd be searching for that doll thing. I helped him crack the password on the computer files. I staked-out the gym, and still nearly didn't see you. Did you find it, find the doll?"
Caroline nodded, Jane wasn't sure at what. "Read his email? Does Gary know you can do that?"
"Oh, yeah. Hacker game, practically a CompSci course, crack the system. I showed him mine, he showed me his. We used different back doors, campus UNIX has holes like a Swiss cheese. That boy's slick."
A half-smile flitted across Caroline's face. "Slick as a seal, yeah. Great endurance, too."
Jane felt the start of a blush touch her cheeks, first time since she was eight or nine. This girl was his sister?
Caroline grinned at the look on Jane's face. "Esthetic appreciation — the guy's a hunk, no question. Besides, I didn't know he was my brother until last spring. That makes a major difference in how you look at a man."
Then she turned serious. "You said you shot at him. 'Shot at' rather than 'shot.' You want to talk about it?"
Strangely enough, Jane did. Maybe Caroline was a witch. Anyway, Jane sipped at her own coffee and cradled the hot cup in her hands, relishing the warmth after hanging around outside the gym all day and freezing her buns, and talked, words flowing like water.
Told about that
