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“He’ll be all right,” the salesman babbled. “His hand isn’t gone; it’s simply misplaced.”
“Misplaced?”
“Y-yes. It’s rather like quarantine, in a way; it’s being stored.”
“Where?”
“That’s a little complicated,” the salesman muttered, grabbing a magazine to use as a fan to push a couple of small holes away from us. The air current acted on them like they were made of tissue paper, sending them tumbling over each other back into the middle of the room—where they came to rest right on top of the other vamp.
He was cut off midshriek as one of them landed on his face, leaving a perfectly round space where his mouth had been. A few gleaming molars could still be seen, one with a gold cap, above the gaping wound. Another took out part of his chest, missing the heart but leaving a baseball-sized hole through his torso. I could see part of what might have been a rib and a rapidly fluttering thing that was probably a lung. There was no spurting blood, no seeping fluids. It was as if part of him was simply somewhere else and his body didn’t realize it.
It didn’t appear to be pleasant, though. He stared at us, his eyes huge, as the shackles succeeded in dragging him into the cabinet. The door shut behind him on its own with a final-sounding thump.
Marco released me, grabbed the magazine and the salesman, and started towing him back into the room. “Let me explain what’s going to happen here,” he said, batting at any holes that came near. “You are going to get him back. Right now. Or I am going to round these things up and force-feed them to you! Are we clear?”
“Of course. Naturally, there will be a small retrieval fee—” The door clicked shut on Marco’s reply to that, which had included a few suggestions that I doubted were anatomically possible. I couldn’t do much for Marco’s partner except hope that the salesman could do what he said. But I could help the kids. Francoise pressed the keys into my hand and we ran.
Chapter Seventeen
Marco’s car was actually a black SUV with windows tinted so dark they were probably illegal. But illegal was better than bursting into flames, I supposed. Not that there was much chance of that at the moment. The sun had been down more than an hour, with only the neon sign over the pawnshop left to light the dark street.
We took off in a squeal of tires, with me driving since cars were still a new experience for Francoise and not one she liked. She was riding shotgun. I’d hoped that she’d get distracted by the view up front and not freak out, but judging by her white-knuckled grip on the dashboard, that was working about as well as my plans usually did.
It also left me with a problem, since I now had to drive and keep a lookout at the same time. It was harder than it sounds, because limos are not exactly an unusual sight on the Strip and I’d neglected to ask Tami for a description. So I was left trying to find two limos together, only everyone seemed to be traveling solo tonight.
We pulled up behind a long black one a few minutes later that was stalled at a light. “Hey, green means go,” I yelled, leaning on the horn.
The limo’s doors opened, but no one got out. Arms covered in identical dark sleeves emerged from either side of the vehicle and closed them. The limo moved a few jerky yards forward, into the middle of an intersection, and the doors popped open again. Only this time, it wasn’t just a couple of back ones. All five doors as well as the trunk started flapping open and shut all along its length, making it look like an elongated crow trying to take off.
“Ees zat normal?” Francoise looked confused.
“No.” But it was something I’d seen more than once lately. One of the Misfits was a little girl whose parents had kept her, and her misfiring magic, locked away in a small room until she was old enough to leave for her special “school.” As she grew, her power increased, along with her dislike for enclosed spaces. We’d had a tough time with her at the casino, because doors, windows and elevators all refused to stay closed when Alice was nearby.
“Can we go around?” Francoise asked, looking behind us at the increasingly long line of waiting cars, most of which were now honking angrily. A VW Bug edged around us and the limo and then hit the gas and rocketed through the intersection, winking its brake lights cheekily. A number of other cars followed, but I just sat there.
“I’m going to take a look,” I told her.
“Why?”
The doors all flew open again and then slammed shut in unison. “That’s why. I think Alice may be in there.”
Francoise opened her door. “I weel go.”
“No. Stay here. It’s probably nothing.”
“And if eet ees not notheeng?”
“I can get out faster than you. Besides, if something happens, I need you to go for help.”
I left her staring at the steering wheel with a look of frozen terror on her face. Given the choice, I think she’d have rather faced the mages. I didn’t share the sentiment, so I approached the limo with caution.
I’d have had to do that anyway since the doors were still opening and closing at random intervals, with one slamming shut in my face as I tried to enter. Instead of playing musical chairs, I waited beside one near the back until it opened again and then launched myself inside.
It was crazier inside than out, with crying children, yelling adults and someone screaming for the driver to hit the gas. But I was in the right place, because that was Jesse near the front of the limo, highlighted by a currently open door. He was lying on a long, bench-type seat surrounded by no fewer than four mages.
I started for him, but a little girl grabbed me around the legs and I went down, and then somebody kicked me in the head. I don’t think it was on purpose because it didn’t hurt much, mostly managing to bruise my ear. But then someone’s large boot came down on my wrist and that did hurt—a lot.
I screamed and a man jerked me to my knees. A young Asian-American with stylish black-rimmed glasses peered into my face. “Who the hell—” He stopped abruptly. I didn’t recognize him, but it was kind of obvious that the opposite wasn’t true. He had the expression of a man who knew he had half a million euros by the arm—the size of the bounty the Circle had put on my head.
