I fell through the porthole hardtop and landed behind the wheel of the T-bird, without any hint of a jolt except what my imagination supplied. Loud voices jabbering in Spanish snagged my attention. I turned and looked out the passenger-side window.
Raul was still on the sidewalk where I’d seen him last, and now his brother was with him. As near as I could make out from just a few words, Pablo was trying to convince Raul that he’d really seen ugly little flying women, and Raul was pissed off because he thought Pablo was on drugs. Extra drugs, I mean.
Obviously, neither one had noticed my arrival. I hoped they couldn’t see me. I could see myself, my hands, complete with scratches, but not my face reflected in the rearview mirror.
I started to reach into my pocket, then froze. Why would I have my keys? Why wouldn’t they be back on my physical body?
I tried to push the treacherous thought out of my head. I still had clothes on, didn’t I? Then I’d still have my key ring, too. It would be in my pocket because I needed it to be. Because I willed it to be.
It was.
Grinning, I pulled it out, slid the key into the ignition, and turned it. It moved easily-really easily-but the ignition slot and cylinder stayed where they were. Because the key wasn’t any more solid than I was.
Except that I had to be a little bit solid, didn’t I? The seat was holding me up. I could feel it against my back and under my butt. Maybe if I tried, I could make myself thicker. More real.
So I concentrated on that, then tried the key again. For an instant, it seemed to catch, but then it turned without even the slightest resistance, just like before.
The same thing happened on my next try. And the one after. I almost had it, but not quite.
Someone shouted. I looked up. Raul and Pablo were glaring at me through the windshield. My struggle to make myself solid had turned me visible.
Raul grabbed for the handle of the door on the passenger side. The horrible thought occurred to me that, with me in my soft in-between state, he might be able to pull me apart like cotton candy.
Fortunately, the door stayed shut. I’d locked the car when I gotten out to walk to the Columbia.
“Give me your damn tire iron!” Raul snarled.
The order stung Pablo into motion. He reached inside the jacket of his warm-up suit and pulled his favorite weapon from the waistband of the pants. In another moment, Raul would use it to smash a window, and reach inside to drag me out.
Then the key turned the cylinder, and the dual quad engine roared to life. I snatched for the shifter with one hand and the steering wheel with the other, put my foot on the gas, and had no trouble touching any of them. I floored the accelerator and shot away just as Raul was winding up for a swing.
I felt like laughing for about half a second. Then I remembered that my real problem was still ahead of me. In fact, for all I knew, the fairies had torn my body apart already, and I was a real ghost.
I drove fast, and blew my horn at two couples crossing the street. One of the guys yelled and pulled his date to safety as the T-bird swerved around them with inches to spare. I made a left turn through a red light. Brakes screeched, and other drivers’ horns blared at me.
It scared me, but not as much as when my hands started feeling numb and mushy on the wheel. I tried to think them strong and solid again.
I raced under an I-4 overpass, then took a right. Blackness jumped at me. I’d been in such a hurry to get away from the Martinez brothers that I’d forgotten to turn my lights on, and Ybor was bright enough that it had kept me from noticing until now.
I switched them on and felt a fresh stab of panic, because nothing looked familiar. I was in the right sad, seedy little neighborhood, but where exactly, in relation to the house where the old man and I had holed up?
I was afraid I’d just have to drive around and pray I spotted it in time. But then I felt a tug inside my head.
I realized I had an instinct that told me where my real body was. I hoped that meant that it-I-was still alive. It seemed like it ought to. But the only thing I was sure about was that I didn’t really know any of the rules of this crazy new game I was playing.
I blew the horn as I drove up over the lawn. I hoped the old man would hear and understand what it meant, or else that it would scare the fairies.
I hit the brakes, tried to put the T-bird in Park, and my hand passed right through the shifter. I willed solidity back into my fingers, and the second time, it worked.
Melting back into a pure ghost was easier. Too easy. I was almost past the point of no return when I realized I’d forgotten to pop the door locks. Then I had to strain for what felt like forever to make my fingers firm enough to do the job.
Once I did, I finished dissolving and wished myself back in my body. I shot through the windshield and the front of the shack. Then I was lying in the dark, with buzzing, snapping, and cracking noises all around.
“I’m back,” I croaked. “That’s my car outside.”
“How am I supposed to get to it?” the old man asked. He was still bracing the door, and his voice came from right above me.
I accidentally bumped him as I climbed to my feet. “We run. I’ll guide you. Are you ready?”
Something banged at the back of the house, and then I heard a louder buzzing. Some of the brownwings had finally broken in.
“Go!” the old man yelled. He jerked open the door. I gripped him by the arm and we dashed out onto the stoop.
If all the fairies had still been in front of the door, they would have ripped us apart. But they were all over the house, picking and scratching holes, except for the ones that had already made it inside. Only a few were close enough to attack instantly.
Still, a few could be enough to take us down, or to delay us until the rest caught up with us. I flailed with my free hand, smacking them and tumbling them through the air. But mainly I hauled the old guy along as fast as I could.
I shoved him into the passenger side of the car, bumping his head in the process. The night got darker as a buzzing cloud of brownwings blocked out the stars above me. Knowing I didn’t have time to go around, I scrambled over the hood of the car. Even though I was scared out of my mind, there was a little piece of me that hated doing it. But a perfect paint job wouldn’t do me much good if I was too blind or dead to enjoy it.
One brownwing thumped onto the side of my head, and another landed on my shoulder. They clawed and scrabbled as I carried them into the car with me, gashing my cheeks and forehead but somehow missing my eyes. Screaming, I slammed the door, then pulled them off me and beat their long little heads against the dashboard until they quit squirming and scratching.
The engine was still running even though there was no key in the ignition anymore, or at least, none that I could see. I wrenched the wheel and stepped on the gas.
Fairies clung to the hood and glass and glared at the old man and me. I had the terrible thought that, really, there was no way to get rid of them. No way at all. But once I accelerated, they started shaking and blowing off. And as I turned onto a wider street, with other traffic and more lights, the ones who’d hung on until then flew away of their own accord.
CHAPTER TWO
The causeway that runs along and then across McKay Bay goes by docks the shrimp boats use and berths where freighters put in for maintenance and repairs. Surrounded by gantries and scaffolding and all lit up, the big ships glowed like ghosts in the dark.
No Eyes had me stop at a spot where there were no docks or boats, small or big, just a narrow strip of sand and pebbles leading down to the black water. We walked down to it, and I stood looking out while he muttered words I didn’t understand. He picked open one of the scabs on his cheek and flicked drops of blood at the channel.
I had no idea why he’d wanted to come here, or why he was doing what he was doing. Which may have
