Lady Superior by Alex Ziebart Page A

direction, cutting east at a street corner, mimicking the flow of ground traffic. Ahead, Kristen saw her chance. A bridge overpass crossed over I-94. The SUV—she’d nearly forgotten what she was following to begin with—laid sideways, its front end having broken through the concrete to jut over the highway. She pushed harder, pulling ahead of the owls an inch at a time. Before long, she’d left them far behind.
    Kristen skidded along the concrete as she finally slowed. Underestimating her own speed, she thumped into the side of the SUV to come to a stop. Rebounding off of it, she caught her balance and kept moving, circling around the vehicle, peering in the windows. Empty. She spun in place, gaze sweeping over the road. The street lamps cast a dull orange glow over everything. No sign of anyone. The owls would be on her soon.
    She peered over the barricade and examined the highway below. A man in jeans and a white undershirt stood in the middle of eight lanes. A leather strap across his chest showed something was slung over one shoulder, but she couldn’t make out what it was. He faced the bridge, stiff and expectant. The Doppler report of a car horn started on one side of the bridge, growing louder as it appeared on the other side. The vehicle swerved to avoid the man. With a flash of blue light, the man moved from one lane to the next, appearing just behind the car. It peeled away from him, swerving across the lines, and the man screamed obscenities in rumbling bass.
    What’s he doing?
    He’d jumped toward the car, not away from it. Why?
    Setting her hands to the barricade, Kristen vaulted over the top and plummeted forty feet straight down. She touched down like a thunderbolt in a three-point landing. She rose on shaking limbs. “Hey, you!”
    The man whirled to face her. He was tall and thick—the sort of build Kristen associated with a lumberjack, a tree unto himself—and had a beard that, at least in the low light, appeared well-groomed. Joel could take a lesson from this guy, she thought. His eyes went wide an instant, betraying the moment of recognition. “What do you want from me?” he demanded in a deep rumble.
    “What do you think?” Kristen advanced on him. She found herself short for breath and tried to keep her voice even anyway. “What the hell is going on here?”
    “Stay away from me!” The man shuffled back. His hand jerked the leather strap across his chest. It swung a hunting rifle over his shoulder. In one smooth motion he snatched it out of the air, set the rifle’s butt to his shoulder, and took aim. “Come any closer and I swear, I will blow your head off.”
    Panic pulled Kristen’s chest tight, making it even harder for her to catch her breath. Fighting against her nerves, she forced a bluff. “You don’t think anyone’s tried that already?”
    He took another step back and kept the weapon level. His step put him in the center of a lane. Another car swerved to avoid him, the driver laying on the horn. He didn’t seem to mind. “I watch the news. I know you’re with Temple and I won’t give you a goddamn thing.”
    He knows about Temple?
    She stopped advancing. “I’m not with Temple. You stole a car, there’s a flock of birds chasing you, and now you’re playing in traffic. That’s pretty weird. I just want to know what’s going on. That’s all. Maybe we can talk somewhere else. You know, where we won’t get run over.”
    He jerked his rifle up. Kristen winced at the crack of gunfire, and an owl fell dead between them. The rest of the flock swooped down. In the blink of an eye, the owls vanished. In their places, a circle of men and women stood as naked as they day they were born.
    Changelings.
    They caught her off guard. Two tackled her together, forcing her to the ground. She saw others grab the man, tearing the rifle from his hands. They tried to grab him, too. He disappeared in a flash of blue, but when he reappeared, the changelings were waiting. He caught a