Bossypants interrupted me with a dismissive snort. “Have you met many of our kind that linger in this realm? They’re no less self-involved here than they are back in the shadows. All they care about is themselves and perhaps their immediate circle. The greater good of our people means nothing to them if it requires them to lift a finger. Why do you think I was tackling this menace with such a small group to begin with?”
I had seen those selfish attitudes in other shadowkind. The group of humans I worked with to protect the creatures that traveled into our realm had reached out to local shadowkind gangs and the like before, but they rarely opted to get involved unless it affected them directly. Still…
“This is a much bigger deal than solo hunters or small collectives snaring lesser shadowkind for profit. All the higher shadowkind are at risk. Don’t you think that would matter to the others?”
Omen grimaced. “If it did, this ‘sword-star crew’ would never have managed to establish themselves as firmly as they have.”
He vanished into the shadows, putting a definitive end to that discussion. Such a lively conversationalist.
With a grimace of my own, I picked my way along the fringes of the clearing. Maybe a bit of useful debris had blown this way in the midst of the destruction and been missed during the clean-up. I scanned the piles of boards and the interlocking beams to see if anything caught my eye, squinting into the lengthening shadows of the approaching evening.
I’d made it about halfway around the destroyed facility when a warbling sound from above caught my ears.
My head jerked up. I flinched and stumbled backward just in time to dodge a streak of fire that plummeted down at me.
The blazing thing whooshed past me close enough to singe a few flyaway strands of my hair before it hit the ground. My pulse lurched. The flames flared higher, and I scrambled farther back, my arms flying up defensively. A bolt of pain shot through my bandaged shoulder. The fire flickered in the opposite direction and then slowly dwindled as its fuel ran out.
As I lowered my arms and edged closer to the now only smoldering object, Thorn charged over with Snap and Ruse close at his heels. I clenched my jaw against the ache still burning in my shoulder, and we all stared at the thing that had nearly landed on me like a flaming toupee.
It was a charred… pair of work jeans? Yep, with a sharp chemical scent that indicated how the fire had caught on them so enthusiastically. The fabric must have been dosed in some kind of lighter fluid and then been tossed down from above.
Thorn sprang back into the shadows, presumably to search for my attacker. Snap checked me over carefully. His eyes stark with concern, he fingered the singed strands of my hair, which he’d admiringly compared to the color of a peach when we’d first met.
I took his hand in mine with a reassuring squeeze. “I’m all right. The jeans, not so much.”
Ruse cocked his head, still considering them. “Well, that is something, all right.”
I peered up at the gridwork and knit my brow. Who would have done that—why would anyone have done that? There were a hell of a lot more deadly things here than discarded construction pants.
A nervous quiver ran through my chest, but I wasn’t going to be shaken by something this ridiculous, not if I could help it. Mangling the lyrics from my favorite ‘80s songs always bolstered my spirits. I waved my hand in front of my nose and sang a little tune: “This is what it smells like when gloves fry.”
While Ruse snickered, Snap knelt down. His tongue flitted through the smoke. “A man was wearing them this morning—he spilled something sticky and black on them, had to change, left them in a waste bin. I can’t sense anything after that.” He frowned.
Omen had returned to join us sometime during the chaos. He contemplated the burnt jeans, the structure around us, and then me, his gaze so penetrating I could almost feel it digging through my skull. “Fire seems to like you.”
“A lot of the time, I like it too, but only when I’m the one setting things up in flames.” I resisted the urge to hug myself. “Someone’s messing with us. Trying to keep us on our toes.”
“You’re lucky you didn’t get the slightest bit burned.”
What was he implying—that I’d been prepared for fiery legwear to fall on my head? “Three cheers for good reflexes,” I said.
Thorn burst out of the shadows so abruptly the air rippled against my skin. “There’s no one else on the site right now. Either it was another shadowkind who slipped away quickly or a trick set to go off automatically.”
Ruse raised his hand. “Seeing as we weren’t getting anything useful out of this ruin anyway, I’d like to vote that we take off before any other ‘tricks’ come at us.”
I expected Omen to argue like he seemed to whenever anyone other than him suggested a course of action. Instead, he nodded. “We aren’t getting any farther here.”
He stared at me for a moment longer before shifting his attention to the incubus. “Why don’t we make use of that computer adept you mentioned? Our enemies will have left a trail somewhere—we just need to pick it up, and quickly.”
2
Sorsha
I was starting to notice that Omen’s station wagon had a particular smell to it. I inhaled deeply where I was sitting in the back seat, trying to place it. A hint of charcoal, a little salt, something a bit chalky, and a note that was maybe… meaty? Brick-oven pizza, I thought, except it was hard to picture Bossypants chowing down on a slice in his beloved Betsy. Anyway, the scent was too dry, no tomato-y juiciness.
While I contemplated the lingering odor, Ruse, who’d kept his physical form, gabbed away at his boss about the hacker he’d worked his charms on.
“Managed it over the phone,” he said, leaning back in his seat with his arms crossed behind his head. “It only took a few minutes before we were such close friends she’d happily delve into an obviously stolen computer. A little internet tracing shouldn’t be any problem at all. The original effect won’t have worn off much yet, so it’ll hardly be any work.”
“Wonderful,” Omen replied in a voice so devoid of emotion I couldn’t tell whether he was truly pleased or being sarcastic, but Ruse’s commentary had reminded me of another responsibility. I owed my one actual close friend a call.
I settled deeper into the worn leather cushioning of the back seat, which I had to admit was pretty comfy, and pulled out my phone. Vivi had inadvertently gotten herself tangled up in our conflict with the sword-star crew despite my efforts to keep her out of the line of fire. Okay, maybe even because of those efforts. My caginess had gotten her so worried about me that she’d tracked me down while we were following the bad guys and blown our cover. Since the baddies would have seen the car she was driving, which belonged to her grandmother, I’d ordered them both to go into hiding.
Vivi picked up on the first ring. “Sorsha?”
Hearing her vibrant voice sent a wash of relief through me. “The one and only. I take it you’re still hanging in there out at that cottage?”
“Yeah, just bored.” A matching relief sparkled through her laugh. “I’m so glad you’re okay. I’ve been spinning out crazier than a cuckoo bird in a blender wondering what’s going on.”