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"No doubt about it." The corners of his blue eyes crinkled with the force of his smile. "So, how about it?"
"Yes to a late dinner, no to sex. When are you free?"
He paused and glanced away. "I have a break in forty-five minutes. You want to meet me around at Fuzzball's?"
Fuzzball's was a little cafe not far away from his work. We'd met there once, for lunch, and while the food or coffee wasn't great, it certainly wasn't the worse place that I've ever eaten.
"I'll be there in forty-five."
"I'll be waiting."
I grinned and hung up. Almost immediately the phone rang again, but the number wasn't one I was familiar with. Frowning, I flicked the button and said, "Riley Jenson speaking."
"Riley, it's Mike. You said to ring if I had anything else."
It took a moment for the name to click. It was the street kid-the one with the bright blue eyes and quick mind.
"I did. What have you got?"
He didn't ask for cash, as I half expected him to. Instead, he said in a rush, "There was a woman here asking about Joe. It wasn't the same one that talked to Kaz, but I think she's going to kill him."
Chapter Six
"She can't find him, right?" I said, a little alarmed by the panic in his voice. Mike was a kid who had seemed totally in control. I wouldn't have expected this sort of reaction out of him.
"But she can. She did something to me. I don't know..." He paused. "She threw this dust at me, and suddenly I couldn't stop blabbing. Anything she asked, I answered. It was unreal." He blew out a breath. "I thought she was harmless. She was in a damn wheelchair, after all."
A wheelchair. So Cole was right about the reasons the bird was resting on its belly. While shapeshifting could heal most injuries, there were a few that could never be repaired. Missing limbs didn't grow back, and broken spines were never fixed. I had no idea why, especially when most other broken bones could be repaired once set. Maybe it had something to do with nerve damage.
"Look, this woman is a sorcerer, so she's obviously used some sort of magic on you. How much head start has she got?"
"Maybe five minutes. She said she'd kill everyone if I moved or tried to warn Joe, but once I got the chance, I rang you."
"And did you ring Joe?"
"No. I mean, I can't. He doesn't have a phone with him when he's working."
"I thought you said he didn't work nights."
"Well, he doesn't normally. But he hasn't had a good run this week and needs the cash."
I bit down on the instinct to ask what he needed the cash for, simply because it was a stupid question. Even street kids needed cash for some of the necessities in life. Although in Joe's case I didn't think one of those necessities was drugs. Not yet, anyway. "Where is he?"
"He's working the hospitals. I'm not sure which one he's doing tonight, but he did the Freemasons last night, so it'll probably be the Epworth tonight."
I frowned. "What do you mean, he's working the hospitals?"
"He's a pickpocket. Hospitals are great places to work, because no one expects it."
That's because most people expected a certain level of respect in hospitals. But then, a street kid living just above the starvation line isn't exactly going to be respectful of anything but his own skin.
"I'll see what I can do, but you'll owe me one."
"Deal."
I hung up, then threw the phone down on the passenger seat and started the car. It didn't take that long to get to the hospital, but with the extended visiting hours the hospital had, parking was a bitch. I didn't even bother looking, just stopped in a no-parking zone and slapped the Directorate official vehicle sticker onto the dash. I grabbed my gun from under the seat, then climbed out.
The wind was free of any familiar scents. I jogged toward the hospital, keeping alert and using my psychic senses to feel for anything that seemed remotely out of place.
