shadows. Then there was a creak in the hall outside the studio, and a soft knock on the door.
Marley raced over to the door. It had no chain, just an ordinary lock on the knob that she was suddenly very happy she’d remembered to turn. She leaned her shoulder on the door, and waited.
“Hello?” came a masculine voice, muffled by the door. “I wanted to introduce myself. We met at the library. My name is Corbin Adair.”
“And why were you outside my building, Mr. Adair?”
The floor creaked, and the door moved a tiny bit; Marley realized he was also leaning against the door. His voice, when he spoke, was uncomfortably close. “Watching over you.”
“Right. Because you’re oh-so-helpful. I forgot. I still don’t know why, though.”
She could practically feel the frustration in his voice as he said, “Because I don’t know what else to do.”
An unexpected sympathy swelled within Marley, but she crushed it ruthlessly. “And how exactly did you find me?”
The pause from the other side went on too long. Finally, he said, “I don’t want to explain it like this. I don’t think you’d understand.”
Marley pressed her lips together. “Really. Give me some credit, Mr. Adair; I’m not an idiot.”
“Did you understand what happened at the park today? AT told me about it.”
“I understand that some people shot at me, and I don’t know why, or who sent them. Was it you?”
“No! Damn it!” There was a thump on the door, at about head-height. “Look, whether or not you believe me, we want the same things: to find Zachariah, and to protect those kids. And I expect you want to survive the next few days, but who knows if that’s actually true. God knows I’ve been wrong before.”
Marley bit her lip. “Are other people going to follow me the same way you did?”
“No, absolutely not. And if they tried, I’d know about it.”
She raised her eyebrows at the door. “You’re that certain? Well... good.” She closed her eyes. “Still not going to let you in, though. You know how it is. I’m a helpless woman with some kids to protect, and you’re a big, strong, deceptive man who won’t explain himself to me.”
There was a snorting sound from the other side. “I’m going back to keeping watch. If anybody else does show up, I’ll warn you, and distract them.”
“My friend Branwyn is coming over. She has green hair. Don’t you touch her.” Then curiosity drove her to add, “How will you warn me?”
The door shifted again as he moved away from it. His voice drifted back. “There will be wings at your window.”
-twelve-
A t first, Corbin returned to his position across the street. But, apparently, he didn’t like the view, because as the sun sank below the skyline, he moved to the near side of the street. It was just out of Marley’s line of sight, unless she pressed her cheek to the screen, which didn’t feel very pleasant. So she gave up on watching him watching her, and turned her attention to the waking little girls. Tepid showers soothed grumpy tempers admirably, and afterward she watched them play with the cat among Branwyn’s projects and wondered what to do about dinner.
When Branwyn showed up, she called Marley’s cellphone rather than knocking, and Marley opened the door to help her with the armful of fast food bags she was carrying. They exchanged meaningful glances that meant “food first, before the little girls eat us,” and settled down for a hamburger picnic on the studio floor.
Marley, who’d been thinking about what to tell Branwyn, started the conversation. “Do you remember those stories your great grandmother used to tell us? Black dogs and white cats and horseshoes? And the magpies?”
“All her superstitions from the old country? Yeah.” Branwyn smiled briefly at a memory. “Two magpies to the right is lucky! Never ask a fisherman where he’s fishing!”
“And all the stuff about fairies. That old story about a world under a
Marley raced over to the door. It had no chain, just an ordinary lock on the knob that she was suddenly very happy she’d remembered to turn. She leaned her shoulder on the door, and waited.
“Hello?” came a masculine voice, muffled by the door. “I wanted to introduce myself. We met at the library. My name is Corbin Adair.”
“And why were you outside my building, Mr. Adair?”
The floor creaked, and the door moved a tiny bit; Marley realized he was also leaning against the door. His voice, when he spoke, was uncomfortably close. “Watching over you.”
“Right. Because you’re oh-so-helpful. I forgot. I still don’t know why, though.”
She could practically feel the frustration in his voice as he said, “Because I don’t know what else to do.”
An unexpected sympathy swelled within Marley, but she crushed it ruthlessly. “And how exactly did you find me?”
The pause from the other side went on too long. Finally, he said, “I don’t want to explain it like this. I don’t think you’d understand.”
Marley pressed her lips together. “Really. Give me some credit, Mr. Adair; I’m not an idiot.”
“Did you understand what happened at the park today? AT told me about it.”
“I understand that some people shot at me, and I don’t know why, or who sent them. Was it you?”
“No! Damn it!” There was a thump on the door, at about head-height. “Look, whether or not you believe me, we want the same things: to find Zachariah, and to protect those kids. And I expect you want to survive the next few days, but who knows if that’s actually true. God knows I’ve been wrong before.”
Marley bit her lip. “Are other people going to follow me the same way you did?”
“No, absolutely not. And if they tried, I’d know about it.”
She raised her eyebrows at the door. “You’re that certain? Well... good.” She closed her eyes. “Still not going to let you in, though. You know how it is. I’m a helpless woman with some kids to protect, and you’re a big, strong, deceptive man who won’t explain himself to me.”
There was a snorting sound from the other side. “I’m going back to keeping watch. If anybody else does show up, I’ll warn you, and distract them.”
“My friend Branwyn is coming over. She has green hair. Don’t you touch her.” Then curiosity drove her to add, “How will you warn me?”
The door shifted again as he moved away from it. His voice drifted back. “There will be wings at your window.”
-twelve-
A t first, Corbin returned to his position across the street. But, apparently, he didn’t like the view, because as the sun sank below the skyline, he moved to the near side of the street. It was just out of Marley’s line of sight, unless she pressed her cheek to the screen, which didn’t feel very pleasant. So she gave up on watching him watching her, and turned her attention to the waking little girls. Tepid showers soothed grumpy tempers admirably, and afterward she watched them play with the cat among Branwyn’s projects and wondered what to do about dinner.
When Branwyn showed up, she called Marley’s cellphone rather than knocking, and Marley opened the door to help her with the armful of fast food bags she was carrying. They exchanged meaningful glances that meant “food first, before the little girls eat us,” and settled down for a hamburger picnic on the studio floor.
Marley, who’d been thinking about what to tell Branwyn, started the conversation. “Do you remember those stories your great grandmother used to tell us? Black dogs and white cats and horseshoes? And the magpies?”
“All her superstitions from the old country? Yeah.” Branwyn smiled briefly at a memory. “Two magpies to the right is lucky! Never ask a fisherman where he’s fishing!”
“And all the stuff about fairies. That old story about a world under a
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