Witch and Wizard - James Patterson [37]
“Wait,” I said. “Whit and I need to look for our parents. We’ll go it alone. I mean, we’re thankful and everything.”
Celia’s and Sasha’s eyes met and, for once, Sasha’s face wasn’t so sunny and open. “Um,” he said, “we should talk about that, Red.”
I glared at Sasha, and my brother spoke up. “Not a nickname she likes. Just FYI.”
“The thing is,” said Sasha slowly, “it’s not safe, or very smart, for you to go off on your own.” He took off his ball cap and twisted it in his hands. His thick, jet-black hair fell forward over his eyes. “Sorry about that, Freckles.”
Chapter 59
Wisty
“NOT FRECKLES EITHER,” suggested Whit. “Or Carrottop.”
“Okay,” I said. “We have to find my mother and father. That’s our mission,” I stated very clearly. “Family first.”
Celia stepped closer to me and put out her hand. I felt a wispy breeze touch my hair and saw the sympathy in her eyes. “Wisty, just listen. Please.”
Sasha sighed, then gestured at everything around us. “Look at this screwed-up place. This is what most of the city looks like. The N.O. is taking over ‘worthy’ communities and shaping everything in its image. The rest, they’re just… razing. Like, totaling out of existence.”
“Yeah, I’m all sad about that too. It’s awful. I get it. But what’s that got to do with our mom and dad?”
“Read my lips, friend: things are bad all over,” he continued. “I don’t have any idea where your ’rents might be held, or if they’re even… alive.” The last word was a whisper.
I stared at him, feeling the blood drain from my face.
“Celia, you saved us. If you could get us out of prison, why can’t you help us find our parents? They’re alive. I’m sure of it.”
Whit stared at Celia, clearly agreeing that I was onto something. A pained expression came over her face, but she didn’t respond to what I’d said.
“Look,” said Sasha, glancing awkwardly at Celia. I couldn’t read his meaning. “Let’s just get to safety. We can figure out your next steps when we’re in Freeland.”
I’d had enough of the sympathy game. Folding my arms across my chest, I stomped my foot like that two-year-old in the shopping mall. “I am not moving one inch until someone gives me a satisfactory answer.”
“Wisty,” Celia hissed with urgency, “it’s really dangerous here. There’s stuff worse than bombs, if you can imagine something more terrible than being blown up. We don’t know where your parents are yet. And you can’t save them anyway… if you’re dead.”
Chapter 60
Whit
“STOP RIGHT WHERE YOU ARE, kids. Let me see some ID. Now!”
There were about a dozen of them—make that eleven—all males, probably late teens to midtwenties, big boys with big muscles.
I stepped forward. “Mind if I ask who you are, before we show you anything? This is a dangerous part of town, y’know.”
The spokesman for the muscled boys looked to be in his early twenties. He was standing on the balls of his feet, ready to start some trouble, I figured.
“You should know who we are. New Order. The Citizen Patrol. We’re looking for Strays and Wanteds. Need IDs from all of you. It’s the law, friend.”
Wisty had moved up alongside me. “Maybe we’d like to see your IDs,” she said. “Friend.”
Meanwhile, a crowd of maybe fifty or sixty “citizens” was forming. Not good.
“Let me take care of this,” I said. “Okay?”
Wisty shrugged. “Sure.”
“Why don’t we all just walk away and stay friends?” I said to the group leader. I was hoping to continue talking, but he already had a metal baton out. The crowd was still growing, and getting noisy.
“Citizen Patrol, my butt. More like the Aspiring Dictators’ After-School Club,” said Wisty, ever the diplomat. “Look at you overgrown goons. Pathetic.”
Well, that put them over the top, and they attacked—all eleven of them, batons flailing, the crowd of neighborhood creeps cheering them on.
“My turn.” I held Wisty off. “I can do this.”
“I can see that,” she said. “Wow, Whitford.”
What she was seeing was that the Citizen Patrol seemed to be moving in slow motion. But actually they weren’t. I was just moving very, very fast. I’d felt that I could