Child Of Fire Part 3

"When you see her," Ms. Finkler interrupted, "ask her what she wants to be called. People should let people pick their own names."

"Welp, that makes a lot of sense."

"But they went on some kind of trip. You say you're early?"

"Only by a day."

"They looked like they were going to be gone longer than that. I don't know what to tell you. But if you want a job, you should go to the toy plant tomorrow. They're always hiring lately." She looked me up and down. "Wear something decent."

I smiled at her. It took an effort. "Thanks. I appreciate the advice."

"You're welcome." She closed the door.

I walked back to the van and climbed behind the wheel. Annalise hadn't told me where to meet her, but I hoped she knew better than to think I was going back to the Bentons' house. I drove around the corner, parked beside the alley, and waited.

The streetlight was overhead. I took the piece of paper I'd found on the floor of the living room and held it up to the light. It read: I'm putting this where you will find it. This is the only way we can talk about the truth. Every time I try to talk to you...

We need to get away from here before we lose Justin and Sammy, too. I sent a postcard to my sister asking her to invite us for a visit. I told her to make it seem like an emergency. When she calls, let's run and never come back.

I'm terrified and I don't know what to do. When I'm alone, I remember them just for a couple of minutes at a time. Do you remember them, too, in the middle of the night when no one else is around?

I miss them terribly. I don't know what's happening. I just want to get away. I don't think I'm crazy. Am I crazy?

I love you.

That was it. The note was unsigned, but it looked like a woman's handwriting.

They'd lost three of their kids, and while I didn't have kids of my own, a lifetime of Hollywood movies had convinced me it was the worst thing that could happen. Except they only knew it had happened in odd, lonely moments.

Why the Bentons? Who had targeted their kids, and why?

The pa.s.senger door swung open. Annalise climbed in.

"Everything go okay?" I asked.

"I'm hungry. Let's find someplace to eat."

I started the van. "What did you find out?" She didn't answer. I drove toward downtown.

Her silence annoyed me, but then I had a scary thought. What if I hadn't distracted Ms. Finkler for long enough? What if she'd caught Annalise in her kitchen?

Annalise had spells that could deal with people without taking their lives-I'd seen them in action-but she didn't always use them. She hadn't been all that concerned about catching Meg and Douglas in her green flame. They had survived only because I had knocked them back.

Annalise only cared about one thing: she searched for people who cast magic spells, especially those that summoned predators, and she killed them. Nothing else mattered to her. Certainly not innocent bystanders. They were expendable.

And, to tell the truth, I'd seen a little bit of her world, and I understood her. I'd seen what predators could do. With their appet.i.tes, they could devour every living thing on the planet.

Maybe we needed people like Annalise-people who were willing to do what ever it took to protect us. Without her, and others like her, maybe we wouldn't even be here now.

But I really hoped she hadn't killed that sad woman.

Annalise held the sc.r.a.p wood in her hands, staring at the designs as if they were tea leaves. What ever she could read there, it was p.i.s.sing her off.

I turned into the business district and pulled into the parking lot of a Thai restaurant. I didn't know how good it would be, but pad thai wasn't rocket science and I'd been craving it for months. They didn't exactly let you order in from a jail cell.

"What are we doing here?" Annalise asked.

"Grub."

"I don't eat this. Find a place that serves burgers or steaks."

I sighed to let her know how disappointed I was and found a diner just a block farther down the road. As we entered, Annalise placed the sc.r.a.p wood on the door-jamb. As far as I could tell, the designs continued to churn slowly, without any change. We went inside and found a booth.

By the clock above the counter it was nearly eleven. We'd had a busy day.

There were three or four other customers. All of them thought we were worth a good, long look. I couldn't blame them. Annalise was quite a sight in her oversized firefighter's jacket, tattoos, and clipped red hair. Standing next to her, I looked almost reputable.

The waitress came to our table. "New in town?" she asked. Annalise grunted.

"Just drove in," I said. I smiled politely, knowing what some waitstaff do to the food when they don't like a customer.

"Looking for work at the plant, I guess?"

"They really need people, huh?"

"Sure do," she said. She took our order. Annalise asked for iced tea and a grilled steak. When she was told they were out, she ordered a cheeseburger with bacon. It sounded so good I ordered the same thing but with a cola. Maybe the sugar would keep me awake.

As the waitress started to turn away, Annalise grabbed her hand. The waitress tried to wrench herself free but couldn't break Annalise's grip.

Annalise laid the sc.r.a.p wood on the woman's wrist, then let her go. The waitress quickly retreated behind the counter.

Great. I hoped I wouldn't be eating her spit later.

Annalise stared out the window. She looked distinctly unhappy.

I smiled. "Nice little town, huh?"

"I've been to some that were nicer. Smaller, too."

"So what's be-"

Annalise abruptly stood and moved toward the counter. The other customers had turned back to their own conversations, but one of the men at the counter tapped his companion. They watched her approach. Both were in their fifties and wore blue overalls smeared with machine oil.

"Excuse me," she said to them. She laid the wood against the first man's arm, then the second's. She moved to a booth in the corner and the last of the diner's customers: a pair of ladies who must have been in their seventies.

"Excuse me," Annalise said again. She laid the block against one woman's shoulder. After a second, she moved to the next.

The second woman flinched. "I don't-"

"It's all right," Annalise said, and laid the wood against the woman's arm. After a moment, she started back toward our table.

The first mechanic caught her eye as she pa.s.sed. "If you're looking for something radioactive, honey, you put your hand on the wrong body part."

His buddy chuckled. Annalise walked by without comment. As she settled back into her seat, the waitress returned. She didn't seem terribly happy with us. "If you keep bothering other customers, I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

Annalise didn't acknowledge her. "Understood," I said.

The woman moved away from the table while keeping a wary eye on us. I wondered how long it would take for word about us to spread around town.

"I expected you to keep a lower profile," I said.

Again Annalise didn't acknowledge the remark.

"What's the matter? Turn off your emotion chip?"

She stared at me as though she was imagining me dead.

I've seen that look before, but it's not something I've ever gotten used to.

I settled back in my seat and was silent. Annalise didn't need to talk to me. I was going to be dead soon.

I remembered the way the boy had split apart into a ma.s.s of worms and my stomach flip-flopped. Why had I ordered a cheeseburger with the works?

I didn't have the guts to keep pestering her. The peers of the Twenty Palace Society might have forbidden her to kill me, but I had no idea how or if they would enforce that rule. I knew very little about her society except that, like Annalise, they were sorcerers. Like Annalise, they killed predators and people who toyed with magic. Like Annalise, they hunted for copies of spell books.

One thing I did know: as powerful as Annalise was, she was one of the weaker peers in her society. It was a scary thought.

Our drinks arrived, then our burgers. Despite my queasiness, I tore into my food, my body's needs taking over. All my concerns about dead children and murderous sorcerers receded just far enough for me to fuel up.

Spit or no spit, the eating was good. I could see that Annalise was enjoying it, too.

"So," I said between bites, "do you think the Benton family was targeted specifically?"

Annalise looked at me like I was a bug that needed squashing. She took another bite of her burger and kept chewing.

"I found a slip of paper on the floor of their living room," I said. I took another bite of food, making her wait for the rest. Eventually, I said: "They could remember their kids when they were alone. They could see their kids' things and remember what happened to them. It was only when they were with other people that the memories were wiped away."

Annalise took another bite. I set my burger on the plate and leaned toward her.

"Is that what you found in Finklers' kitchen? A photo of her with her kids? Or maybe her grandkids? Was that why you were so entranced by her? A mother all alone, grieving over her children?"

Annalise became very still. She stared at me with all the warm gentility of a shark.

"I'm not trying to push your b.u.t.tons," I lied, "but I can be useful. I want to help."

"I don't need your help," she said.

"If I'm going to be dead soon, it won't matter if you answer my questions."

"I don't want your help."

"I work for you," I said. "Your peers in the society, whoever they are and what ever that is, put me here to help you."

"You agreed to be my wooden man," she said. Her tone was even and low. "You lied to me and betrayed me. I attacked a peer because of you, and the closest friend I have ever had in my long life is dead. Because of you."

"I'm sorry about Irena," I said. "I liked-"

"I don't want to hear you talk about her. At all. If you say her name to me again, I will splinter every bone in your body, peers or no peers. Am I clear?"

At that moment, before I even realized it was possible, I stopped caring what she would do.

I'd spent the whole day in the van with Annalise, knowing she would eventually kill me. Before that, I'd sat in a jail cell for months waiting for someone in the society to collect my head.

People become accustomed to their circ.u.mstances. It was one of the many unpleasant truths I learned in prison. We can't be afraid all the time; our bodies can't sustain it.

I was getting used to Annalise's hatred and to my quite sensible fear of her. What I was not getting used to was my own ignorance. I didn't like stumbling around in the dark. I didn't even know what a "wooden man" was. I was pretty sure it involved more than just driving around.

So, against all common sense, I pressed on. "The way you've been frowning at your sc.r.a.p of wood makes me think the Bentons were not specifically targeted. The design on that sc.r.a.p moves when magic is nearby, right? And does other stuff when predators are close, right?

"But you've been frowning at it wherever we go. I think it's telling you the whole town is enchanted. It's picking up a lot of background static but not directing you to the source. Maybe those two mechanics have lost their kids, too. Maybe that waitress cries herself to sleep at night, thinking about the son who never came home from school."

Annalise sighed. "I usually drive around until the spell registers magic, then I home in on foot."

"What does it mean that the magic is so spread out?" I tried to keep my voice reasonable and calm. Professionalism breeds professionalism.

Annalise sopped up some ketchup with a fry. "It means I don't know what to do next."

The window beside us shattered. I covered my head as shards of gla.s.s rained over me. Annalise turned toward the window, her hand reaching under her jacket.

Broken gla.s.s covered my half-eaten burger. Ruined.

I turned my attention to Annalise. She was standing beside the broken window, staring into the street.

"What happened?" I asked.

"Him," she said.

I looked into the dark street. I couldn't see anyone, but I heard a voice.

"Where are my daughters?" a man shouted. "Who stole my little girls from me?"

Then I saw him. He was tall and stooped, with lank hair hanging past his shoulders and a bare scalp on top. He was so skinny he looked like his skin had been shrink-wrapped around his bones.

And he was carrying a rifle.

It looked like a bolt-action hunting rifle, but he was all the way across the street just beyond the glow of a streetlight, so I couldn't be sure.

"Who took my daughters?" he shouted. A man and woman bolted from the cover of a parked car, sprinting for the corner. I clenched my teeth as the tall man noticed them. He aimed the rifle at them but didn't fire. The couple reached the corner and safety.