Chapter 13 Showing Off the New Candy
Showing Off the New Candy
They hit the junction at explosive speed, the tide of white pixie dust slamming into the previously sedate black matter of the secondary line, exciting the slower pixie dust into higher states barely ahead of their passage.
Katu fishtailed wildly, the ley-line feedback pouring up through Cha with orgasmic intensity, and she let out a long, happy shout of wild triumph.
She had no attention to spare for Prince Charming, except to note that he remained safely inside the carriage, despite her threats.
Slower traffic scattered across the secondary line leading back to the Thirteen and Cha wove her way through it, making one lightning quick choice after another.
When a heavy dray carriage unexpectedly—and stupidly—deflected directly into their path, Cha went on blind instinct, threading the needle through the narrow space between the lumbering carriage and the dead zone of the margin.
They came to a rest on the shoulder, facing backward, Prince Charming’s eyes wide in feral terror. He looked like he might puke. “You almost killed us…” he whispered, gaze on the steep drop-off to the side.
“Not even close.” With forked fingers, she pointed to her eyes and to the road. “The trick is to keep your gaze where you want to go; not where you don’t.”
He simply stared. “You can’t convince me you have a philosophy behind this… this behavior of yours.”
She shrugged cheerfully. “I’m a card-carrying member of the Sisters of Don’t Give a Fuck. No celibacy required, in case you’re concerned,” she added.
“You… You’re insane,” he stammered again.
“You aren’t the first to say so. I picked you up, didn’t I?
” Cha checked the traffic and goosed the jag into an opening.
With reluctance, she gave up the white speed and tucked the ley dynamics down to pale black.
That still had them passing the other carriages on the Thirteen with ease, though a number of them were drafting in her wake, she noted, taking advantage of the Bandit on a spree and juiced up with speed.
Some cargos would be checked in for an early bonus today and Cha wished them well.
Everyone deserved a gimme now and then. She glanced at her passenger.
Definitely green, a shade that did not go well with the indigo.
“There’s a cooler in the jump seat behind you,” she told him. “An iced ale might help.”
“At this point, I don’t think drinking an entire vineyard would make a difference,” he snarled unhappily.
It shouldn’t have been sexy, but so help her it was, and she laughed. “I’m not though,” she said, feeling a bit of reassurance wouldn’t go amiss.
“Not what?” He’d turned around in the seat, rummaging through the cooler anyway. Very nice ass. Since it was bobbing there beside her head, she allowed herself a long, leisurely look. Mmm. Lovely pussy-sparkle, more than she’d felt in quite some time.
“Insane,” she answered, beaming angelically when he skewed around and glared at her.
She tapped her temple. “I’ve been tested.
Sane as they come, just a wee bit of irrationality when it comes to assessing risk.
” Well, and the criminal tendencies, including a disregard for authority and an iconoclastic drive to shatter rules just for the fun of it.
She could hear the child psychologists as if it were yesterday. Good times.
“Just a wee,” he muttered ungraciously, sucking down the ale. Then spewed it out. He examined the bottle with incredulity. “What in demon’s spawn is this stuff?”
“Peasant fare, no doubt.”
“Clearly.” Apparently willing to lower his standards in this extreme circumstance, he drank again.
“And there she is,” Cha declared with satisfaction.
“Who?”
“Big Betty.” She tapped the marcasite channel live. “Heya Goldilocks, Bandit here sliding up on your delightful derriere. How’d I do?”
“Twenty-three minutes,” came the grudging reply. “But I’m deducting five for every person you killed to do it.”
“Then I’m golden because there were zero casualties.” She might have emerged from the womb a criminal, but her disdain for rules didn’t extend to taking lives, not if she could help it.
“Except for my stomach,” the prince said sourly, “which seems to have flung itself into a pit, never to return.”
Dy laughed, a sultry chuckle that Warg echoed in a far less appealing octave. “Been there. What’s your name, pretty one?”
The man glared mutinously at the path-box, clamping his lips shut. Cha sighed, shaking her head. “He isn’t saying,” she answered Dy for him. “I’m calling him Prince Charming. Take a gander.”
Deftly maneuvering Katu into the lane beside Big Betty, Cha positioned her pretty prince into Dy’s line of sight.
The sorceress didn’t need to watch the road with her eyes any more than Cha did, but no sense taking chances.
Dy leaned out the open window of Big Betty, a few long golden curls whipping out.
“Yummy,” she said through the path-box. “But what’s he wearing? ”
“Is that a cargo transport?” the prince asked, sounding as if he’d identified a rare species of demon spoor, after stepping in it.
Cha ignored him. “You should’ve seen him before he stripped down.”
“Less clothes is definitely better,” Dy agreed. “But you can’t keep him.”
“Aww, moooommmm…” Cha whined dramatically, doing a passable imitation of Phin Jr.
“The answer is no,” Dy replied firmly.
“But—”
“No. Remember what happened the last time you tried to take a puppy on a trip. Giant Jo’s Pit Stop is up ahead and you need juice after that burn anyway. Leave Prince Charming there. Put a sign around his neck if you have to. Surely someone will adopt him.”
The prince tipped his head back and pinched the bridge of his nose between a thumb and forefinger. “What are the odds?” he mused aloud. “Two crazy women, in short succession.”
“Really the odds enter a much more rational range when you consider we work together,” Cha commented. “What?” she asked when he gave her an incredulous look. “I’m more than a pretty face.”
“She’s got a banging body, too,” Dy commented. “Too bad she plays for the other team. Get that juice, Bandit, and ditch the puppy. I mean it. Be responsible.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Will circle back when I’m fed and rid of the excess baggage.”
“Hey!” the prince exclaimed.
“Got that. Be sure to circle up before the BX. Goldilocks out.” Big Betty trumpeted as Katu sped up, leaving their partners behind in a cloud of sifting gray pixie dust.
“I resent being referred to as luggage. Or a sweet dessert. Or a juvenile dog,” the prince informed her.
“Relax,” Cha told him, giving him a last lustful and rueful look.
Dy was right, curse her. Prince Charming was tempting, but she had no time to indulge.
Nor could she afford any distractions. Chasing the sparkle with pretty men was her great weakness—and tended to interfere with the responsibility thing.
“No harm meant. We just keep up the chatter for the ears.”
“Ears?”
She pointed to the path-box. “Anyone can listen.”
He stilled, face going hard in his concern, all vestige of foppish behavior gone. “Anyone?”
“Well, anyone who knows to hop on that particular channel.” Which hopefully didn’t include the fae law-hounds, or whoever held the leash on those fell wolves. She slid him a questioning look. “You do know how an underground path-box works, right?”
“Why would I?” His tone still held all the pompous arrogance she’d come to know and—well, not love, but lust after—but he looked genuinely concerned.
“You knew how to activate the channel.”
“The magical mechanism is obvious.” He waved that off.
“You really are a prince.”
Now he gave her the side-eye. “Would I lie?”
“Can you?” she asked with alert interest. The fae couldn’t lie. She tried to get a look at his ears, but his curling indigo locks covered them. Surely it wasn’t possible, but…
His mouth twisted wryly. “Not saying. What’s the BX your partner referred to?”
“Not saying.” She simpered at him.
He set his teeth, sharp-edged jaw flexing as his eyes flashed. So sexy. Alas. “It could be important to me.”
“It’s definitely important to me.” She tipped her head at the path-box. “Thus being careful.”
“Ah,” he breathed, eyeing the box. “Can anyone listen on that thing at any time?”
“Theoretically no, when it’s off-channel, but it’s made by human mages using a conglom of fae magic crafted to mimic telepathy, after a fashion, so there are no firm rules.” She shrugged philosophically. “You know how it is, when magic’s involved, all bets are off.”
A sobering thought, if the fae guard had managed to infiltrate the path channels to the extent that they could passively listen in through the boxes at any time.
Something else occurred to her. “If you don’t understand what we’re doing with handles on the path-boxes, how did you know to leverage the knowledge that I’m the Bandit?”
He gave her a bland look. “I figured you being a ‘bandit’ was illegal. I’m not an idiot.”
A bandit, not the bandit. She sighed for her own hubris.
“Handle is a code name then?” he asked, studying her intently. “What’s your real name?”
She considered lying. Reconsidered, as—who was she kidding?—everyone knew who the Bandit was. “Cha.” She held out a hand sideways, offering a friendly clasp. He didn’t take her up on it. “And you?” she prompted.
“You can call me ‘Your Highness.’”
“Ha ha.”
“It’s better for your long-term health if you don’t know,” he said, snootily as usual, but with a serious undercurrent. “What kind of a name is ‘Cha’ anyway? It sounds like a cough. Or a hairball.”
“It’s a nickname.”
“What’s your full name?”
She slid him an assessing glance. “Not telling.”
“You’re that much of a criminal?”
“It’s that much of a mouthful.”
“I can handle a mouthful.”
Was it her imagination or did his coaxing tone—far nicer than he’d been to her thus far—carry a sensual buzz? He did have a very nice mouth. “Evermore,” she confessed on a sigh. “Arantxa Evermore. The second is pretty normal. The first, however, is pronounced with a ‘ch,’but spelled with an ‘x.’”
“Ah, thus the seizing of the final syllable ‘cha’ for the nickname,” he mused. “But Arantxa is such a beautiful name. Why bastardize it?”
She gave him an incredulous look. “It’s spelled weird, no one can pronounce it, and it means thornbush.”
“Sacred thornbush,” he corrected, surprising her, then giving her a mischievous look with a hint of a smile. “Seems apt to me, oh thorny one.”
She snorted, but couldn’t help being secretly amused—and definitely intrigued. Too bad the timing sucked. “Look who’s slinging stones, oh nameless one.”
“How long till we reach this pit stop?” He shook his head in disgust. “I can’t believe those words just came out of my mouth.”
Cha chuckled, gauged the ley line and the landmarks. “’Bout ten minutes and you’re rid of me.”
“How about ten minutes of quid pro quo, answer for answer?” he suggested silkily.
“Sounds like fun. Me first: who and what are you running from?”