Brother to Dragons, Companion to Owls - Jane Lindskold [34]
She lets herself trail off. To mollify me, Professor Isabella suggests that we make certain that the boys meet Jerome and learn the location of When I Was Hungry. I agree, eager to see Jerome again.
Soon after this, Abalone comes home ashen-faced and shaking harder than the frigid day could account for. Without pausing to remove her wrap, she drops something into my lap, then into Professor Isabella’s.
I look down wonderingly at the picture of a girl with cream-colored hair and jade green eyes. She is something like me, I think.
“Brighton Rock!” Professor Isabella reads. “‘Spot our Girl and Win!’ Why it’s a candy ad! But what is Sarah doing on the advertisement? It can’t be a coincidence!”
Abalone hangs up her cape and pours herself tea before plopping down on the floor.
“I don’t believe in coincidence—not where Sarah’s concerned.” She turns a card over. “Listen: ‘Creamy outside, tart lime inside.’ That’s just an excuse for using Sarah’s face on these cards.”
“I see.” Professor Isabella carefully bookmarks the volume of Don Quixote that she’s been reading to me. “Where did you get these?”
“I had work up near that police station where Sarah and I had our mishap. I don’t know what made me pick the card out of the gutter, but when I did I recognized Sarah right off. I snooped around a bit then and discovered that they’ve been handed out since about a week after our scrape. Lots of people are hot on them—wait for new cards with clues and stuff. Heck, they’re even buying the candy to get the cards.”
“And if you spot the girl,” Professor Isabella muses, shaking her head, “you get a prize. Why, they’ve turned the entire City into a means for finding Sarah.”
“I’m sure of it,” Abalone agrees. “I did some scouting. The places where these are being handed out most thickly are near our police station and around the Home and the Jungle, our hunting grounds.”
“Not here,” Professor Isabella asks worriedly.
“No. Apparently you two have been careful enough with your trips. Won’t last. Someone at some museum will remember the weird, pretty girl with the dragon who stands muttering at walls. They’ll assume that the fruitcake bit is meant to get attention.”
I arch an eyebrow at her. “A little nonsense now and then is relished by the best of men.”
“Sorry, Sarah.” Abalone has the grace to blush. “I only mean how you seem to people who don’t know how much sense you have under all that hair.”
Mollified, I reply, “We be of one blood, ye and I.”
Abalone presses her lips together. “That’s what’s so bad about this, Sarah. Not even the Master Words will protect you—even from your own Pack. Remember, Mowgli was nearly sold out by his own Pack members because they were just young and thought with their bellies and not with their hearts.”
“Baloo,” I say, pointing to her, then to Professor Isabella. “Akela.”
“That’s right, dear.” Professor Isabella laughs. “Your teacher bear and your old, grey wolf. I wonder if Head Wolf…”
She stops as Abalone glowers at her. There is a sick silence. Then Abalone speaks, her words clipped and as cold as if to a stranger.
“Only the foolish turned against Mowgli.”
“I’m sorry, Abalone. I forget myself.”
“Don’t.”
Although Abalone and Professor Isabella would have been happiest keeping me inside the apartment full-time, they rapidly learn that this is impossible. Recordings, visual and audio alike, do not hold my attention unless someone else watches with me. I cannot read or write and sewing occupies me only so long.
Professor Isabella reads to me, but when she becomes weary and her attention wanders so does mine. Abalone gives me lessons, but after a certain point I am unable to concentrate on the little icons, no matter what pictures or sounds she programs as my reward.
I assign myself the task of keeping the apartment clean, but these chores rarely take more than two hours. In the end, Betwixt and Between watch out the window