both
eyes large as he stared at my abdomen. Shouts along the path made him look over
his shoulder, and fear spasmed through his skinny body.
The poor guy quivered in his faded, filthy kaftan. The
little urchin was caught between the men chasing him and the invisible thing
that had halted his escape. I stepped slightly to the side and hoped he'd make
a run for it, but he stood frozen in place, with his attackers bearing down on
him.
There was nothing else to do.
I slipped behind him and gave him a swift shove in the
middle of his back. The momentum got him moving. He shuddered, throwing one
last terrified glance over his shoulder before he turned tail and sped off. I
envied his ability to weave in between the throng of people in the street.
Raucous shouts sounded close behind me, and I turned to see
two mean faces, dark with anger, bearing down on me. I didn't stop to think.
Just reacted.
Stepping aside, I waited. Just as they passed me by, I stuck
my foot out. The first man went sprawling into the dusty road, colorful robes
flying, followed closely by the second, who got a mouthful of souk dust for his
efforts. The men yelled, their faces streaked with sweat and dust and livid
fury. They spared no time for confusion, just got back to their feet and ran.
And I grinned again, knowing they'd never find the boy now.
I threaded my way back to the rest of the team, pausing to
allow a loud pot-bellied tourist to pass without knocking me out with his
wildly gesticulating hands. Beside me, a chicken squawked, flapping her reddish
brown wings and bobbing her little feathered head. She jumped, trying to avoid
the grasping fingers of her master, who held a gleaming, chillingly sharp knife
in one hand.
I sympathized with the poor bird. Her end drew near, and she
screeched and fluttered about, throwing tiny feathers into the air, bemoaning
the inevitable. Both the doomed chicken and I had less than zero chance of
changing the way things were meant to be.
Chapter 14
Behind me the chicken squawked again. She managed to choke
off one last rebellious cry before the thunk of a knife silenced her. I sighed.
We maneuvered through the raucous throng, admiring the
persistence of the sellers, the intensity of the bargaining. A stall filled
with little pyramids of spices drew my eye—every color displayed, from deep
reds to the brightest yellow of turmeric. Before the multihued table, a woman,
covered in black from head to toe, yelled at the stall-owner. She pierced him
with lively green and furious eyes, while blasting him with words I'm sure
weren't flattering or kind.
The old man barked back, baring the few remaining teeth
within his aged gums. He waved his hands and shouted, upset with the woman, who
poked a very long and pointed finger at the man's chest, unfazed by his anger.
Possibly she'd insulted his wares. Who knew?
Their spat meant bad news for me, though. The man swung his
hand out, gesturing wildly. He hit me hard on my arm with the back of his hand.
I stepped away and held my breath. Just behind me, the rest of the team halted
and watched in silence. Joshua and Aimee exchanged worried looks, and Joshua
raised his eyebrows at me, in a "What do we do now?" wiggle.
The old man's olive skin faded to a sickly pallor. His
gnarled fingers trembled slightly, but he still held them out, frowning and
seeking the mysterious thing he'd struck. His irate customer chided him again,
her green eyes glittering, strident voice only increasing in volume, but he'd
lost all interest in her. His head swiveled; his eyes darted up and down the
street, staring into the bustling crowd. Then his pale eyes stopped, and he
gazed right at me.
Though I knew I remained safely invisible, I shivered, both
fear and fascination holding me in place. A frown wrinkled the folds of his
ancient skin. He reached a hand out toward my face, as if seeing a ghost and
trying to touch it to see if it were corporeal. I backed away, suddenly very
afraid that despite
eyes large as he stared at my abdomen. Shouts along the path made him look over
his shoulder, and fear spasmed through his skinny body.
The poor guy quivered in his faded, filthy kaftan. The
little urchin was caught between the men chasing him and the invisible thing
that had halted his escape. I stepped slightly to the side and hoped he'd make
a run for it, but he stood frozen in place, with his attackers bearing down on
him.
There was nothing else to do.
I slipped behind him and gave him a swift shove in the
middle of his back. The momentum got him moving. He shuddered, throwing one
last terrified glance over his shoulder before he turned tail and sped off. I
envied his ability to weave in between the throng of people in the street.
Raucous shouts sounded close behind me, and I turned to see
two mean faces, dark with anger, bearing down on me. I didn't stop to think.
Just reacted.
Stepping aside, I waited. Just as they passed me by, I stuck
my foot out. The first man went sprawling into the dusty road, colorful robes
flying, followed closely by the second, who got a mouthful of souk dust for his
efforts. The men yelled, their faces streaked with sweat and dust and livid
fury. They spared no time for confusion, just got back to their feet and ran.
And I grinned again, knowing they'd never find the boy now.
I threaded my way back to the rest of the team, pausing to
allow a loud pot-bellied tourist to pass without knocking me out with his
wildly gesticulating hands. Beside me, a chicken squawked, flapping her reddish
brown wings and bobbing her little feathered head. She jumped, trying to avoid
the grasping fingers of her master, who held a gleaming, chillingly sharp knife
in one hand.
I sympathized with the poor bird. Her end drew near, and she
screeched and fluttered about, throwing tiny feathers into the air, bemoaning
the inevitable. Both the doomed chicken and I had less than zero chance of
changing the way things were meant to be.
Chapter 14
Behind me the chicken squawked again. She managed to choke
off one last rebellious cry before the thunk of a knife silenced her. I sighed.
We maneuvered through the raucous throng, admiring the
persistence of the sellers, the intensity of the bargaining. A stall filled
with little pyramids of spices drew my eye—every color displayed, from deep
reds to the brightest yellow of turmeric. Before the multihued table, a woman,
covered in black from head to toe, yelled at the stall-owner. She pierced him
with lively green and furious eyes, while blasting him with words I'm sure
weren't flattering or kind.
The old man barked back, baring the few remaining teeth
within his aged gums. He waved his hands and shouted, upset with the woman, who
poked a very long and pointed finger at the man's chest, unfazed by his anger.
Possibly she'd insulted his wares. Who knew?
Their spat meant bad news for me, though. The man swung his
hand out, gesturing wildly. He hit me hard on my arm with the back of his hand.
I stepped away and held my breath. Just behind me, the rest of the team halted
and watched in silence. Joshua and Aimee exchanged worried looks, and Joshua
raised his eyebrows at me, in a "What do we do now?" wiggle.
The old man's olive skin faded to a sickly pallor. His
gnarled fingers trembled slightly, but he still held them out, frowning and
seeking the mysterious thing he'd struck. His irate customer chided him again,
her green eyes glittering, strident voice only increasing in volume, but he'd
lost all interest in her. His head swiveled; his eyes darted up and down the
street, staring into the bustling crowd. Then his pale eyes stopped, and he
gazed right at me.
Though I knew I remained safely invisible, I shivered, both
fear and fascination holding me in place. A frown wrinkled the folds of his
ancient skin. He reached a hand out toward my face, as if seeing a ghost and
trying to touch it to see if it were corporeal. I backed away, suddenly very
afraid that despite
Similar Books
