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"That's what my visions said."
"And if you don't succeed?"
"Human sacrifice, dogs and cats living together, mass hysteria," she said.
He glowered at her. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
"Oh, for fuck's sake. You're as bad as Xaphan. Don't you angels ever get out to the movies? I mean, Ghostbusters. One of the best all-time funny movies. You really need to get out more."
"I have had better things to do with my time," he said loftily.
"Right. Like torture and enabling a serial killer. Good times."
Her sarcasm annoyed him more than it should have.
"Don't pretend you haven't tortured and killed," he said. "You say it's in the name of righteousness, but it's all ambition and hunger for power, isn't it? You are just as ruthless, savage, and pitiless as I am. More so, because you are driven by greed."
"I don't get off on it like you do. You probably blow a load every time you hurt someone."
"Why shouldn't I enjoy giving justice?"
"Are you sure it's always justice?"
The lash of that whip silenced him. He had been wrong twice. That he knew of.
"You never said what you have come to steal," he said, changing the subject.
She stared ahead, her face set. "That's because I don't know."
He studied her, trying to decide if she was lying or toying with him. She appeared to be genuine. "Explain." After a moment he added, "please."
A hint of a smile flickered over her lips. His reward for his effort at politeness was an actual answer, rather than more prevarication.
"My visions said there's something inside I have to get. I don't know what, and before you ask, I don't know why, or what to do with whatever it is once I do find it."
"How will you know when you have?"
"I'm hoping for a big neon sign and maybe trumpets or dancing girls," she said. "Maybe a big X marking the spot. Isn't that the way this sort of thing works?"
"You're the reason the Guardians want to eradicate humans," Shoftiel said, irritation getting the best of him.
"Me? Personally? Wow. Do I get a trophy for that? Or just one of those participant ribbons everybody gets?"
"A gag would be more appropriate."
She shrugged. "You want me to shut up? You got it. And witches don't count as human."
They got into the long line waiting to cross the bridge. Heat waves rose from the tar bog, distorting the air. On either side of the road were fields, the dirt turned and ready for planting. The sun was starting its descent into the west, its light shedding fire on the bog's black surface. Shoftiel doubted they'd cross to the other side of the bridge before dusk. For a moment he considered taking a short surveillance flight, but dismissed the idea. He was bound to protect Giselle and couldn't if he wasn't by her side. He cast a sideways glance at the witch. She had a fertile imagination an
d she despised him. He had no doubt the cost for breaking his binding would be worse than the Mistlands.
The trip across the river was slow and hot. They crept along between a magic-powered semi and a wood-topped wagon pulled by a giant anteater with horns. The bridge extended at least ten miles with only two lanes. Boats poled through the tarways between hummocks and islands, some populated. Fumes made it difficult to breathe.
On the other shore, a city sprawled. A mix of tents, ramshackle buildings, and magical constructions, it must have covered several square miles. A mass of humans and magic-kin filled it to bursting. In the distance on a rise in the center, slender white pillars that looked no bigger than Shoftiel's arm rose high into the air like a ghostly forest of limbless trees. Above them spiraled a vast cloud of lavender smoke.
"What's that?"
"That's where the miracles happen," Giselle said, but her grim expression was anything but hopeful.
