Page 52

NINETEEN

Sorsha

The first words Omen muttered when our potential new allies came into sight by the looming wood-and-metal mass of the Finger were, “Fucking tourists. Of course.”

We paused on the opposite side of the street from the courtyard, waiting for Thorn to give us one final signal that the coast was definitely clear. After the Company had managed to find us on the fairgrounds, we weren’t taking any chances even when it came to other shadowkind.

I glanced over at the hellhound shifter. “Tourists?”

The two shadowkind hanging out by the fountain didn’t look like my stereotypical image of tourists: no Hawaiian-print shirts or cameras dangling from neck-straps. They would have fit in pretty well at Jade’s bar, actually. The guy was a burly teddy-bear type with a glossy chestnut mane of hair that spilled over his scalp from a loose mohawk. The girl, slim and doe-eyed, had dyed her spiky bob with streaks of so many hues I couldn’t tell which was the base color. Their casual but well-tailored clothes gleamed with even more color and, in the girl’s case, a heavy dose of glitter.

I suspected she and Luna would have gotten along well. If Thorn hadn’t already identified the two as “equines” when he’d reported back to Omen, I’d have pegged her for a fae like my former guardian.

“Easy to tell from the look of them,” Omen said with a hint of a sneer. “The type of shadowkind who come mortal-side like it’s a recreational endeavor: take a little trip, indulge in the mortal lifestyle for a week or two when it suits their fancy, then back to the shadow realm before any of the logistics get too difficult. They don’t care about anything other than enjoying themselves.”

I could think of worse reasons to come to the mortal realm, but given Omen’s general attitudes, I wasn’t surprised that sort of cavalier traveling irked him. “Well, these two care enough about something else that they told Jade they wanted to take action. That’s more than your gang buddies offered.”

“I told you before, they’re not my bud—” Omen started.

He cut himself off at a flash of a signal from Thorn by the other end of the courtyard. The warrior and our other two companions were going to stick to the shadows, ready to spring out as need be, while Omen and I talked with the newbies. We’d picked this central location for our meet-up hoping that it’d be way too public for the Company to stage any sort of attack here with all the human tourists around.

Omen started forward. “Come on. Let’s see what these doofuses you dredged up think they’re getting into.”

The two shadowkind had been leaning against the wooden base of the statue, seemingly oblivious to the passersby who’d stopped to try to read the plaque they were blocking. As we approached, they straightened up, probably recognizing Omen’s otherworldliness with just a glance and a sniff.

“Hi,” I said with an awkward little wave. “I’m Sorsha. This is Omen—he’s sort of?—”

“I’m the one who calls the shots,” Omen broke in, staring down both members of the couple in turn. “I don’t know what you heard, but this isn’t fun and games. There won’t be any prancing around or sight-seeing or whatever else you usually get up to on this side of the rifts.”

“Obviously,” the girl said in a voice that practically twinkled, her doe-eyes growing even rounder. “You’re after the jerks who took Cori, aren’t you? We’re not going to mess around when it comes to getting him back.”

“Cori?” I asked.

“Coriander,” the guy said with a droop of his head and his voluptuous mohawk. “Our best bud. We’ve partied all across the mortal realm with him, but just a few weeks ago, these dudes in silver-and-iron clothes grabbed him out of nowhere.” His expression turned sheepish. “That night, we were all high on the LSD a little more than was really good for the reflexes.”

Ah, so we were talking partying hardcore. Omen’s mouth flattened at the mention of drugs, but his tone stayed even. “Who—and what—are you ?”

“Bow,” the guy said, pronouncing it so the W at the end of the name was obvious. His gaze flicked to judge the distance of the nearby mortals, and his voice lowered. “I’m a centaur, sir.”

“Glisten, unicorn shifter,” said the girl with less concern. “I prefer to go by Gisele if you don’t mind.”

She held out her hand in an offer to shake. As I accepted the gesture, I noticed the shimmering braid of what appeared to be hair wrapped around her wrist—hair that was growing from the underside of that wrist? Found her shadowkind trait. And I was guessing Bow’s mohawk was literally a mane.

Fantastic. I knew of centaurs and unicorns, obviously, but the way all kids do from storybooks. I’d never met the real deal in the flesh before. What were the chances I’d get to see either of them in their shadowkind forms?

Possibly pretty low if Bossypants here had anything to say about it. Omen adjusted his stance, looking as though he wasn’t sure whether to be more mollified by the “sir” or offended by the fact that Gisele had taken on a mortal name. “And what exactly do you think you can do for us?”

“Whatever you want, sir,” Bow said eagerly. “I’m pretty strong, and Gisele is awfully fast and fierce when she’s shifted, and, well, we’ll try just about anything if it helps us get Cori back from those hunters or whoever they are.”

Gisele nodded. “And if we need a getaway vehicle, there’s plenty of room in the Everymobile.”

Omen raised his eyebrows. “The ‘Everymobile’?”

“You’ll see! Come with us.”

As Gisele bounded off across the cobblestones, Omen shot me a pointed look. I held up my hands. “Let’s see what they’ve got. There’s strength in numbers, right?”

“Depends on what those numbers are made up of,” he grumbled.

The vehicle Gisele stopped at, parked half a block from the courtyard, looked for all the world like a typical city bus, though empty with a Not in Service message blinking on the display over the windshield. Gisele swiped her palm across a spot next to the door, and it hissed open for her. “All aboard!” she called out, and glanced at the shadows around us. “And I do mean all of you, unless you’d rather creep around in the dark spots out here instead.”

The trio took the hint. As we tramped onto the bus, they reformed just inside—in a space that was several steps up from any public transportation vehicle I’d ever ridden on.

Behind the front seat with its violet velvet covering, the bus opened up into an immense RV. We were standing at the edge of a living room-slash-kitchen with a full sink surrounded by slick counters that sparkled like Gisele’s blouse, hardwood cabinets, and a semi-circle of padded pearl-gray sofa-bench large enough to seat eight, which curved around a sleek table. A narrow hall led from there to a few other doorways, the open one offering a glimpse of a four-poster bed.

“Holy mother of manticores,” I said, taking it in. “You’ve got yourself a mansion on wheels. It has a glamour on the outside?”

Gisele swept her hand toward the dashboard. “Programmed with multiple variations!”

The multi-colored buttons were carefully labeled. There was City Bus , naturally, as well as Tour Bus , Cargo Van , School Bus , and some particularly unexpected options like Train Locomotive and— “Military Submarine?” I couldn’t help reading out loud in disbelief.

“We’ve never had the opportunity to use that one so far,” Bow said from where he’d shut the door behind us. “It’s too bad. It looks pretty amazing.”

“Very slick,” Ruse said with approval, and promptly sprawled out on the leather sofa cushions. “I approve. We did need new digs.”

“Assuming our walking disaster here can manage not to get this latest vehicle blown to smithereens too,” Omen muttered, but even he couldn’t hide a glimmer of awe as he took in the space. “How did you two manage to get yourselves a ride like this?”

Gisele shrugged. “We already had the RV. Mortals have a tendency of wanting to make me happy. Cori crafted it bigger than it was before with his magic. But we were getting into trouble finding places to park it around the cities where we usually wanted to hang out. Then we helped a fae lady through a bad trip, and she repaid us with the glamouring.”

I guessed knowing your way around psychoactive substances could have its benefits too.

Bow peered into one of the cupboards. “Do you all want anything to eat?” Beside me, Snap immediately perked up. The centaur licked his lips. “We’ve got grass and hay and a little clover with the flowers still on it…”

The devourer’s expression fell again. Bow glanced back and caught our lack of interest in what I guessed were delicacies to equine types. A slyer smile crossed his lips. “We do also have the other kind of grass, that’s not actually grass. Good stuff.”

“None of us except the lady need physical sustenance,” Thorn put in.

“Oh, the point of smoking this stuff isn’t to fill your belly. Although I’ve made some pretty good brownies with it before.”

I guessed Omen had decided the vehicle was too useful to pass up even if its owners weren’t his cup of tea. He cleared his throat. “We’re glad to have your assistance, but I think we’d better hold off on addling our minds until we’ve decided on our next course of action. Ruse, you mentioned a solid lead on our way over here.”

“Yes!” Ruse straightened up with a clap of his hands. I dropped onto the sofa next to him, and Snap squeezed in beside me. Our hosts settled in across from us.

“That dark cloud you call an ex spilled the beans after you left,” the incubus said with a tip of his head toward me. “There’s a factory on Wharf Street that had a bunch of trucks arrive the day after we broke into the facility where they were holding Omen.”

Thorn’s attention jerked to us from where he’d been studying the street outside through the window. “One of the addresses the computer adept gave us lay on Wharf Street, didn’t it?”

“Right you are, my friend.”

For the first time since we’d fled the fairgrounds, Omen’s mouth curved into a smile. “We’ll have to scope the place out surreptitiously to confirm, of course,” he said. “That’s work for tonight, when we can hope at least some of the employees will have gone home for the day. But now we’ve got the perfect cover for cruising through the neighborhood.”

He patted the Everymobile’s sparkly counter and, shockingly, deigned to turn his smile on the tourists he’d snarked about less than an hour ago. “I’d bet the Company of Light has your friend there too. I think it’s time to crash their party.”