Brother to Dragons, Companion to Owls - Jane Lindskold [53]
She has completely abandoned her young executive guise and returned to the paints and street struts she favors. As we walk to an automatic diner, she tells me how she and Grey Brother created a false trail that would have eventually led Dr. Haas and her people to the apartment. Once there, they would have found signs of a hasty departure.
“If they looked hard enough,” Abalone brags, “they would have found enough evidence to convince them that the three of us fled up the Shattered Coast and into the East Megalop. I bought us tickets on a shuttle and then rented a hovervan. They’ll figure one is a decoy and one the real route, but they won’t know which. While they chase down dead ends, they’ll never be sure that we didn’t find some third route. Meanwhile, we’ll be here—the last place they’ll look.”
“That will give us time,” Professor Isabella says, holding the autodiner’s door for us.
I look first to confirm that the place is empty. Then I shake my head in query—unable to frame the question.
“What do we need time for?” Professor Isabella guesses.
I nod, accepting the soup and sandwich Abalone hands me.
“Because, my dear, we are done with running away. This time we are going to find these people and strike back.”
I choke on my sandwich and, as Abalone thumps my back, she explains.
“We got to, Sarah. They’re getting mean now, not just clever. They’ve hurt Head Wolf and any of the Pack could be next, especially if they do it in a fashion that would make national news.”
“Say a gaudy murder or a poisoning—‘Brighton Rock’ candy would certainly get our attention,” Professor Isabella notes with a dry smile. “You’ve already proved that you won’t let anyone else be hurt without rising to the bait, so they’re sure to hit where you’re vulnerable.”
“A man may be in as just possession of truth as of a city,” I suggest, “and yet be forced to surrender.”
Abalone shakes her head vigorously. “No way, Sarah. We don’t know why they want you, but I doubt it’s to hand you your inheritance check and send you on your way.”
“Besides,” Professor Isabella adds with a sip from her coffee, “these people probably have your brother and sister. We may be able to help them if they need help or, at least, learn more about your heritage.”
“Curiosity killed the cat,” I remind her.
“Ah, but your forte is dragons”—she smiles—“and owls. Think our proposal over and then Abalone wants to show you an interesting toy she’s found.”
With this as incentive, I bolt my meal, only to be teased by the others, who linger over their vended meals as if in a high-class restaurant. Getting into the game, I saunter over and punch myself a dish of ice cream. We are all in cheerful spirits when we depart.
Abalone leads us to a small park that is nearly deserted at this hour. She sits on a stone bench and motions for us to join her. We sit breathing in the honeysuckle-heavy air.
“Nice, isn’t it,” Abalone comments. “Might get rain later though, but not for a while.”
I nod, aware from a dozen nonverbal signals that she is about to spring her surprise.
“T’Whoo!”
The noise makes me jump. Abalone giggles, but Professor Isabella is calmly brushing her skirts into place.
“T’Whoo!”
A piece of silver-grey moonlight detaches itself from the trees above us and comes soaring down on outspread wings. The owl’s flight is liquid, soundless, utterly natural, but I don’t need to watch for breathing to confirm that the little bird that glides in to roost on the bench across from me is not a bird at all, but a cleverly crafted machine a mere five inches tall.
Feeling more happy and alive than I have since the Brighton Rock scam drove us into hiding, I get up and kneel before the owl. Betwixt and Between forget to be jealous and hiss their delight at this cleverly made newcomer.
I stroke the curved back, giggling when the amber eyes cross as the owl tries to keep watch on my finger.
Abalone asks anxiously, “Do you like it, Sarah?”
I nod vigorously.