Chapter 12 #2
I hear the bang of a body colliding with the door—guess they’ve given up on being quiet—just as Caolan reaches over the edge of the roof and pulls himself up.
He crawls over to me, and a moment later, Alistair’s huge hellhound form bounds up after him.
It belatedly occurs to me that I could have done that too if I’d asked Caolan to create his magic shelf early, instead of literally clawing my way up the building.
My felid self wonders why I’d want to rely on someone else’s magic instead of my own claws and wits. He’s a little disappointed that I’d even consider it.
A crash from the front of the house tells me our intruders have made it inside. They’re not even trying to be subtle anymore. Do they know we’re on the move?
Pushing the thought aside, I creep along the flat part of the roof, keeping half an ear on Caolan and Alistair behind me and the intruders going through the house.
Interestingly, there are sounds of people waking in the other condos, and I gently nudge the magic, making sure it’s aware of the situation. We can’t have humans getting involved in this.
I reach what I think is the right spot and peer over the edge of the roof.
There’s a narrow bathroom window beneath me, wide open.
For a second, I consider shifting back and asking Caolan to lend me his magic shelf, but my cat does not like that idea, and given the precarious situation, I need him onside.
So I unsheathe my claws and turn around to back over the edge of the roof.
Because, like most cats, the way my claws curve means I can’t go down while facing that way.
It’s a little trickier getting back in through the window than coming out was, but I manage, and soon I’m on the bathroom floor, shifting back and shaking out my muscles.
I look up at the window in time to see Caolan lower himself to stand on what looks like thin air just outside it, then duck down and clamber in.
He’s slender enough to fit, but because of his height he has to fold himself up and looks very awkward.
I reach up to grab his feet and guide them to the vanity, and he shoots a grateful smile over his shoulder—though not quite in the right direction.
He’s really putting a lot of trust in us, following us through the dark without complaint.
We move back from the window as Alistair leaps down onto the shelf, then wiggles through the window—it’s tight for him even in hellhound form—and jumps to the floor.
He shifts back and reaches up to quietly slide the window closed, making it tougher for anyone trying to pursue us that way, although they’d have to be real idiots to not just get off the roof and try the front door.
“Is the shelf gone?” Alistair whispers very softly to Caolan, who nods.
“Come on then.” He leads the way out of the bathroom and through the house, leaving the lights off.
I guide Caolan, taking an extra second to place his hand on the banister before we go down the stairs.
The last thing our very delicate nascent accord needs is a broken elf.
In the garage is parked a nondescript four-door sedan, backed in to facilitate a quick departure. Alistair has us get in but leave the doors open—to minimize noise—and then he makes a whispered phone call.
There are shouts from the direction of our condo, although I can’t make out the actual words.
“They’ve realized we’re not there,” Alistair murmurs, just loud enough for Caolan to hear.
“It took them way too long. Amateurs. Enforcement is two minutes away and will arrest them. The special ops team is in the air to take them into custody and transfer them to the secure facility outside Seattle. We need to hang tight here for a bit, and then we’ll decide on our next step. ”
We sit mostly in silence, Alistair and I trying to listen to what’s going on outside and occasionally updating Caolan. Alistair also has Gideon on the line, providing updates on what the local enforcement team is doing. Almost an hour passes before the last of them are gone.
“Okay,” Alistair says, finally speaking at a normal decibel and reaching up to turn on the car’s interior light for Caolan.
“We should be clear. Gideon, I’m putting you on speaker.
Aidan and Caolan are here with me. Can you give them a full update?
Caolan, this is Gideon, one of the people I work with. ”
“I am happy to speak with you,” Caolan says politely.
“And I you,” Gideon replies with a courteous formality I’ve never heard from him.
I shouldn’t be surprised, though—I’m acquainted with his family, and demons have some of the most convoluted courtesies of any of the species, even if Gideon is usually taciturn.
“Andrew’s in contact with local enforcement until the spec ops team takes over.
There are thirteen hellhounds in custody—”
Caolan turns his head to look at me, an arrested expression on his face, and I interrupt.
“Sorry, Gideon, just a second. Caolan, hellhound is the nickname for canid shifters like Alistair.”
There’s a weird sound from Gideon as Caolan smiles with relief and nods. “That makes much more sense than what the translator spell suggested. Thank you.”
“My apologies,” Gideon says smoothly. “I forgot that you haven’t been subjected to the peculiar humor of canid shifters before. It can take some adjustment.”
“Our humor is not peculiar,” Alistair huffs. “It makes perfect sense for us to be called hellhounds.” He turns to Caolan. “You see—”
“Perhaps that can wait?” I suggest, and the big, tough ex-special ops hellhound who just guided us safely out of danger subsides in his seat, pouting. If Caolan weren’t sitting beside me, I’d kiss that pout off his face.
“Thank you, Aidan,” Gideon says, and to give him credit, he doesn’t add anything to mock Alistair.
“As I was saying, there are thirteen canids in custody. None of them was particularly well trained for this type of event, which fits with what we believe we know.” He sounds a little sour there, probably because we don’t “know” very much for certain.
“None of them seem willing to talk, but the spec ops team is going to transfer them over here, and we’ll see if we have better luck.
We’re trying to keep details quiet, so we haven’t given enforcement information that might allow them to gain answers. ”
“That works for me,” Alistair says. “I’d like to bring Aidan back. Now that they know we’re here and that we pose a danger to them, I want him better protected.”
I open my mouth to protest, mostly on principle, but Gideon’s already talking.
“Agreed. Although, they may not know specifically about you and Aidan yet. Their phones—which were the only communication devices they had with them—showed no calls or messages for the last few hours. If they followed Caolan like we think and didn’t know where he was going or to whom until they got to you, they hadn’t reported back yet. ”
“Amateurs,” Alistair sniffs, and Gideon makes a grumbly agreeing sound. I bite back a smile.
“Apologies for interrupting,” Caolan says. “But if they had none of my people with them, how did they follow me? I was portal jumping.”
Alistair and I exchange a glance. “What does that mean, exactly?” I ask. “Did you sense where Alistair was and open a portal to that place?” Because if the elves have that kind of ability, we’re pretty much fucked.
He shakes his head. “No, that’s not possible.
Living beings have unique energy patterns and leave a trail everywhere they go.
It’s possible to sense an individual’s pattern, as I did today with Alistair.
I then reached out as far as I could sense him and opened a portal to that place.
From there, I reached out again and did the same, opening a series of sequential portals in the direction he was going until I found him. ”
That’s… fecking amazing.
“What kind of distance was between the portals?” Alistair asks, sounding fascinated. “Were you mostly following the highway?”
Caolan frowns. “I don’t know how you measure distance here,” he admits. “It took almost thirty portals. And yes, I followed you along the big road.”
“They followed your scent,” Alistair says. “Once they realized you were on the highway, they wouldn’t have had to be so careful about tracking, especially if they’d already heard we were here in Portland. Possibly they also caught my scent going in the same direction and thought we were together.”
Caolan’s eyes widen. “That is impressive.”
“It makes it even more important to get you all back here,” Gideon says. “I’ll have Sam arrange a flight for you all. It will likely have to be a private plane, as Caolan doesn’t have any ID.”
I study our new elf friend. “We’ll need to stop and get him a hat and sunglasses,” I say, trying to choose my words carefully.
“Your appearance is quite distinctly not of Earth,” I add, “and until we are prepared to let the greater population know of the return of your people, we’d like to keep your presence here private. ”
“Of course,” he agrees politely. “Forgive me, but this flight you speak of—is it literally flying? As birds do?”
“Not quite like birds. We have machines—” I hesitate for a second to see if his translator spell can handle that word, and he nods. “—that are capable of flight. We sit inside them and they carry us from one place to another. It’s considerably faster than traveling over land.”
It’s his turn to hesitate.
“It’s safe,” I hurry to add. “There are very rarely any problems.”
He shakes his head. “Of course. But… you mention that it’s faster. How much faster?”
“Much,” Alistair says. “Driving on land in a vehicle like this”—he pats the steering wheel—“would take two or three days. Flying in a plane will take about five hours.”