fair fight.” Noah couldn’t resist, even in the chaos.
“Fuck off and light me a cigarette,” she snapped. “And focus. I saw smoke back three blocks behind you.”
Focus. Right. Noah dug out his cigarettes while his mind wandered back, looking for the fire. This rearguard action was going to kill him, with the waiting and the not knowing and having to trust Cyrus and Dane. But this was his place. He cut another fire off at the roots and the flames blew away in the wind. It was better than he could have hoped for.
Dane hated driving the van. It was remarkably like the time he’d tried to ride a cow, and he wasn’t thinking about how many decades ago that had happened. Having Ylli in the van didn’t improve his temper. No matter how much he loved Vivian, her charges got on his nerves and had since he could remember. Ylli was a bright young man, but shy and withdrawn. There wasn’t anything he’d done to earn Dane’s animosity, it was just there .
In many ways, there wasn’t much difference between Ylli and Lindsay. The ways they were different, though, drove Dane half-mad. Dane’s pet name for Lindsay didn’t reflect Lindsay’s fierce nature and knack for self-preservation. Ylli was prey, and it distracted the hell out of Dane. Every feathery flutter and anxious twitch from the back of the van made Dane’s fingers itch as his claws threatened to come out.
“By the sea.” Cyrus reached out and locked his thin hand around Dane’s wrist. The last year had aged him so much that it made Dane want to howl some days. He kept telling himself he’d seen mages older and more wizened who were still going strong, but it didn’t keep the distress at bay. Every time he was close enough—and more and more he found ways to be close now that Lindsay had Noah—he soothed himself by listening to the sound of Cyrus’s heart.
“Everything here is by the sea, Cyrus.” Still, that did help him pick an exit.
“A long path, by the sea,” Cyrus hissed. The wind coming in the half-open window blew his long, silvered hair around like a cloud.
“There are some trails.” The constant clatter of Ylli’s fingers on the keys of his computer and the soft whistle of his breath were out of sync with the rush and wash of Cyrus’s blood. The world of Dane’s senses was rattled by the lack of harmony. He and Cyrus and Vivian had always been closely attuned, their every move and breath had become an instrument playing a constant symphony of living.
“No trails.” Cyrus let go of Dane’s wrist and leaned forward, glaring through the windshield. “The wheel.”
“I know where it is.” Dane pre-empted any offer of directions from Ylli. A Ferris wheel stood out against the sky, down by the boardwalk. “Put that thing away once you tell Vivian where we are.”
Despite working out where they needed to go, Cyrus looked angry as he sagged back in his seat. Dane didn’t want to ask. He didn’t want to know.
“What’s wrong?” he asked anyway, taking advantage of a lull in traffic to dig behind the seat until he came up with a bottle of water. “Here, have a drink.” It wasn’t cold, but it was spring water.
“Feh. Plastic.”
“You should have died sooner if you didn’t want to drink out of plastic. You knew it was coming.
You bought stocks in it.” Dane worked the cap off and shoved the bottle into Cyrus’s hand. “What’s wrong?”
“Things are too clear.” Cyrus scowled but drank.
Dane clenched both hands on the wheel and breathed slowly. He put his foot down on the gas, and they rocketed through an intersection with wildly blinking traffic lights. He could smell smoke and electricity and melted rubber.
“Clear is good,” he told Cyrus. “Don’t worry about it.”
Cyrus put the water down half-finished. “I can’t see her . We cannot have lost her already.”
Dane turned the wrong way down a one-way street behind the boardwalk and pushed the van to go as fast as he dared. There was a
“Fuck off and light me a cigarette,” she snapped. “And focus. I saw smoke back three blocks behind you.”
Focus. Right. Noah dug out his cigarettes while his mind wandered back, looking for the fire. This rearguard action was going to kill him, with the waiting and the not knowing and having to trust Cyrus and Dane. But this was his place. He cut another fire off at the roots and the flames blew away in the wind. It was better than he could have hoped for.
Dane hated driving the van. It was remarkably like the time he’d tried to ride a cow, and he wasn’t thinking about how many decades ago that had happened. Having Ylli in the van didn’t improve his temper. No matter how much he loved Vivian, her charges got on his nerves and had since he could remember. Ylli was a bright young man, but shy and withdrawn. There wasn’t anything he’d done to earn Dane’s animosity, it was just there .
In many ways, there wasn’t much difference between Ylli and Lindsay. The ways they were different, though, drove Dane half-mad. Dane’s pet name for Lindsay didn’t reflect Lindsay’s fierce nature and knack for self-preservation. Ylli was prey, and it distracted the hell out of Dane. Every feathery flutter and anxious twitch from the back of the van made Dane’s fingers itch as his claws threatened to come out.
“By the sea.” Cyrus reached out and locked his thin hand around Dane’s wrist. The last year had aged him so much that it made Dane want to howl some days. He kept telling himself he’d seen mages older and more wizened who were still going strong, but it didn’t keep the distress at bay. Every time he was close enough—and more and more he found ways to be close now that Lindsay had Noah—he soothed himself by listening to the sound of Cyrus’s heart.
“Everything here is by the sea, Cyrus.” Still, that did help him pick an exit.
“A long path, by the sea,” Cyrus hissed. The wind coming in the half-open window blew his long, silvered hair around like a cloud.
“There are some trails.” The constant clatter of Ylli’s fingers on the keys of his computer and the soft whistle of his breath were out of sync with the rush and wash of Cyrus’s blood. The world of Dane’s senses was rattled by the lack of harmony. He and Cyrus and Vivian had always been closely attuned, their every move and breath had become an instrument playing a constant symphony of living.
“No trails.” Cyrus let go of Dane’s wrist and leaned forward, glaring through the windshield. “The wheel.”
“I know where it is.” Dane pre-empted any offer of directions from Ylli. A Ferris wheel stood out against the sky, down by the boardwalk. “Put that thing away once you tell Vivian where we are.”
Despite working out where they needed to go, Cyrus looked angry as he sagged back in his seat. Dane didn’t want to ask. He didn’t want to know.
“What’s wrong?” he asked anyway, taking advantage of a lull in traffic to dig behind the seat until he came up with a bottle of water. “Here, have a drink.” It wasn’t cold, but it was spring water.
“Feh. Plastic.”
“You should have died sooner if you didn’t want to drink out of plastic. You knew it was coming.
You bought stocks in it.” Dane worked the cap off and shoved the bottle into Cyrus’s hand. “What’s wrong?”
“Things are too clear.” Cyrus scowled but drank.
Dane clenched both hands on the wheel and breathed slowly. He put his foot down on the gas, and they rocketed through an intersection with wildly blinking traffic lights. He could smell smoke and electricity and melted rubber.
“Clear is good,” he told Cyrus. “Don’t worry about it.”
Cyrus put the water down half-finished. “I can’t see her . We cannot have lost her already.”
Dane turned the wrong way down a one-way street behind the boardwalk and pushed the van to go as fast as he dared. There was a
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