Marco glared at me. “How did you do that?”
The salesman hurried up before I could answer and then suddenly turned white and started backing away, fast. I glanced behind Marco’s head to see what looked like a swarm of black insects swirling up from a shattered vial. One of them flew into the overhead light, and one of the bulbs went out.
It took me a second to realize that it hadn’t blown; it just wasn’t there anymore. Another spot floated down onto a bottle on the counter, which winked out of existence like it had fallen down a well. Or a small black hole, which is what the things were starting to look like.
All around the shop, items were disappearing, or parts of them, in the case of those too large to fit down the holes. The little black menaces came in different sizes, but unlike the Shroud, they didn’t appear to be expandable. The ceiling fan overhead lost a chunk from one blade, an old mirror was spotted with empty, black circles and the floor was missing half a dozen round chunks of concrete. I stared down at a teacup-sized one near my foot and didn’t see anything on the other end—no foundation, no dirt, nothing.
Marco carted me back toward the door to the front of the shop, while his buddy reappeared, being dragged across the floor by the shackles, which had attached themselves to his ankles. One of the smaller holes floated down onto his wildly waving left hand, and just like the other items, it was suddenly gone. There was no blood, but there was no more hand, either. Just raw, red flesh and pale bone, sliced clean through like a demented cookie cutter had taken a bite out of him.
Marco let go of me to grab the salesman, who was trying to squeeze out the door ahead of us. “What the hell is happening?” he growled as several more holes appeared in his now hysterical friend.
“He’ll be all right,” the salesman babbled. “His hand isn’t gone; it’s simply misplaced.”
“Misplaced?”
“Y-yes. It’s rather like quarantine, in a way; it’s being stored.”
“Where?”
“That’s a little complicated,” the salesman muttered, grabbing a magazine to use as a fan to push a couple of small holes away from us. The air current acted on them like they were made of tissue paper, sending them tumbling over each other back into the middle of the room—where they came to rest right on top of the other vamp.
He was cut off midshriek as one of them landed on his face, leaving a perfectly round space where his mouth had been. A few gleaming molars could still be seen, one with a gold cap, above the gaping wound. Another took out part of his chest, missing the heart but leaving a baseball-sized hole through his torso. I could see part of what might have been a rib and a rapidly fluttering thing that was probably a lung. There was no spurting blood, no seeping fluids. It was as if part of him was simply somewhere else and his body didn’t realize it.
It didn’t appear to be pleasant, though. He stared at us, his eyes huge, as the shackles succeeded in dragging him into the cabinet. The door shut behind him on its own with a final-sounding thump.
Marco released me, grabbed the magazine and the salesman, and started towing him back into the room. “Let me explain what’s going to happen here,” he said, batting at any holes that came near. “You are going to get him back. Right now. Or I am going to round these things up and force-feed them to you! Are we clear?”
“Of course. Naturally, there will be a small retrieval fee—” The door clicked shut on Marco’s reply to that, which had included a few suggestions that I doubted were anatomically possible. I couldn’t do much for Marco’s partner except hope that the salesman could do what he said. But I could help the kids. Francoise pressed the keys into my hand and we ran.
Chapter Seventeen
Marco’s car was actually a black SUV with windows tinted so dark they were probably illegal. But illegal was better than bursting into flames, I supposed. Not that there was much chance of that at the moment. The sun had been down more than an hour, with only the neon sign over the pawnshop left to light the dark street.
We took off in a squeal of tires, with me driving since cars were still a new experience for Francoise and not one she liked. She was riding shotgun. I’d hoped that she’d get distracted by the view up front and not freak out, but judging by her white-knuckled grip on the dashboard, that was working about as well as my plans usually did.
It also left me with a problem, since I now had to drive and keep a lookout at the same time. It was harder than it sounds, because limos are not exactly an unusual sight on the Strip and I’d neglected to ask Tami for a description. So I was left trying to find two limos together, only everyone seemed to be traveling solo tonight.
We pulled up behind a long black one a few minutes later that was stalled at a light. “Hey, green means go,” I yelled, leaning on the horn.
The limo’s doors opened, but no one got out. Arms covered in identical dark sleeves emerged from either side of the vehicle and closed them. The limo moved a few jerky yards forward, into the middle of an intersection, and the doors popped open again. Only this time, it wasn’t just a couple of back ones. All five doors as well as the trunk started flapping open and shut all along its length, making it look like an elongated crow trying to take off.
“Ees zat normal?” Francoise looked confused.
“No.” But it was something I’d seen more than once lately. One of the Misfits was a little girl whose parents had kept her, and her misfiring magic, locked away in a small room until she was old enough to leave for her special “school.” As she grew, her power increased, along with her dislike for enclosed spaces. We’d had a tough time with her at the casino, because doors, windows and elevators all refused to stay closed when Alice was nearby.
“Can we go around?” Francoise asked, looking behind us at the increasingly long line of waiting cars, most of which were now honking angrily. A VW Bug edged around us and the limo and then hit the gas and rocketed through the intersection, winking its brake lights cheekily. A number of other cars followed, but I just sat there.
“I’m going to take a look,” I told her.
“Why?”
The doors all flew open again and then slammed shut in unison. “That’s why. I think Alice may be in there.”
Francoise opened her door. “I weel go.”
“No. Stay here. It’s probably nothing.”
“And if eet ees not notheeng?”
“I can get out faster than you. Besides, if something happens, I need you to go for help.”
I left her staring at the steering wheel with a look of frozen terror on her face. Given the choice, I think she’d have rather faced the mages. I didn’t share the sentiment, so I approached the limo with caution.
I’d have had to do that anyway since the doors were still opening and closing at random intervals, with one slamming shut in my face as I tried to enter. Instead of playing musical chairs, I waited beside one near the back until it opened again and then launched myself inside.
It was crazier inside than out, with crying children, yelling adults and someone screaming for the driver to hit the gas. But I was in the right place, because that was Jesse near the front of the limo, highlighted by a currently open door. He was lying on a long, bench-type seat surrounded by no fewer than four mages.
I started for him, but a little girl grabbed me around the legs and I went down, and then somebody kicked me in the head. I don’t think it was on purpose because it didn’t hurt much, mostly managing to bruise my ear. But then someone’s large boot came down on my wrist and that did hurt—a lot.
I screamed and a man jerked me to my knees. A young Asian-American with stylish black-rimmed glasses peered into my face. “Who the hell—” He stopped abruptly. I didn’t recognize him, but it was kind of obvious that the opposite wasn’t true. He had the expression of a man who knew he had half a million euros by the arm—the size of the bounty the Circle had put on my head.
The limo started up again before either of us could recover, causing me to fall heavily into the mage, who sat down hard on the backseat next to a sandy-haired boy with Coke-bottle glasses. As the car started weaving wildly through traffic, a pile of nylon rope slithered over the seat from a puddle around the boy’s feet and began winding around me and the mage. I didn’t have to ask how: the little boy was named Alfred, and he was telekinetic.
He looked calm enough, but he had a battered old backpack in a death grip. I would have suggested that he concentrate on getting the rope around the mage rather than both of us, but I didn’t have the breath. It was all getting squeezed out of me by the nylon corset that was tightening by the second.
The mage started swearing and trying to reach inside his coat while I struggled to hinder him and simultaneously get a hand on my gun. But it was still in my purse, because I hadn’t wanted to draw it in full view of traffic, and my purse was outside the ropes. All around us, a mini war was taking place, with yells and curses and the tinkle of breaking glass. Then there was an explosion and suddenly it was a lot lighter inside. It looked like something had taken out a couple of windows.
A particularly hard corner slung us onto the floor and I decided I’d had enough. I shifted about a foot to the left, which got me out of the trap but allowed the ropes to go slack where my body had been. Which in turn allowed the mage to get a hand inside that damn coat.
I didn’t know what he might be carrying, but based on past experience, it probably wasn’t anything that should be used inside a car filled with kids. I couldn’t see my purse and I didn’t have time to get to my gun anyway. I didn’t have time to do anything but grab him, close my eyes and shift.
We landed hard in the middle of the road, rolling a couple of times in the direction of the vanishing limo, the SUV almost running us down until Francoise all but stood on the brakes. The SUV’s front tire screeched to a halt about an inch away from my face. I stared at it, blinking, while the mage slammed an elbow into my ribs, trying to fight free of his encompassing cocoon.
Francoise leaned over the windshield and said something, and the ropes suddenly tightened, sending him back into mummy mode. “Gag heem!” she ordered, throwing me a handkerchief. I wadded it up and shoved it into the mage’s mouth just as he got his chin free from the ropes. I’d forgotten; if they can speak, they’re deadly. Thankfully, Francoise hadn’t. I jumped on board, she revved the motor and we were off.
It quickly became obvious that Francoise had figured out the gas and the brake pedals—sort of—but was a little hazy on things like yielding, red lights and speed limits. Which meant she fit pretty well into Vegas’ traffic. The limo was another story, lurching along in fits and starts a few blocks ahead.
We caught up with it as it turned onto Sands Avenue and started to pick up speed. Francoise took the corner too fast, tires squealing in protest, and slung me into the side door. But she stayed in control and floored the gas pedal.
“Get me close enough to shift inside,” I told her.
“’Ow close?” She was white and shaking, and her eyes were a little wild.
“I don’t know.” I’d never tried shifting into a moving vehicle and I doubted it was all that smart. But if Francoise could get me with a foot or two, it might be feasible. “As close as you can get!”
She muttered something but slipped between two cars and maneuvered the SUV alongside the limo, near enough that the driver hit the horn. I took a deep breath and shifted, landing in a heap in the narrow center aisle by the bench seat. I had half a second to verify that there were only three children in the limo: Alice, huddled in a ball on the floor, Alfred in the back and Jesse near the front being held by two mages.
Then four guns were in my face, one practically touching my nose. I grabbed Alice and shifted before they could fire, landing on the back bench again, alongside Alfred. “That was cool,” he said, as I grabbed him by the front of his shirt.
“Get my purse!” I ordered, causing the mages’ heads to swivel our way. Alfred grabbed my battered denim bag from the floor just as the mages threw a spell and we shifted out.
I landed in the backseat of the SUV, a child in each hand and exhaustion running through my veins. Francoise was watching me frantically in the mirror. She said something, but it was in French and I was too tired to even try to translate. “Your hair is on fire!” she screamed, doing it for me, as Alfred started whacking me in the head with his backpack.
I tore off my jacket, which was still in garden party shape, although the fabric was now an appropriate camouflage canvas. I used it to put out the flames as Alfred clambered over the seat into the front. “I can drive,” he told her calmly. “She’s going to need help to get Jesse.”
“You’re what? Twelve?” I demanded.
He gave me a look. “You’re afraid of maybe getting a ticket?”
“You’re
sure
—”
“Please. I’ve been driving since I was a little kid,” he told me with a complete lack of sarcasm.
I decided that this would be another one of those things Tami didn’t need to know about. I grabbed Francoise by the back of her camisole. “Are you okay with this?”
She nodded frantically, up for anything that involved getting out of the driver’s seat. And then somebody must have recognized us, because an arm appeared out of one of the wildly flapping doors and tossed something in our direction. Francoise jerked the steering wheel hard to the right, slamming us into the side of the longer car and smashing the door back onto the thrower’s arm. But it was too late to stop the small black sphere from bouncing on the hood, once, twice, and before it could hit a third time, I panicked and shifted—the car.
A wave of nausea and vertigo hit me that was so severe it took a few seconds for me to notice where we’d landed: catty-corner across the hood of the limo. A massive explosion rocked the road behind us, shattering the rest of the limo’s windows and leaving a crater the size of a kiddie pool in the road. The back of the limo was also smoking, as if the bomb had taken out part of the trunk as well, although neither that nor the fact that the driver couldn’t possibly see anything past the SUV had slowed him down.