Chapter 8
The low sun made bright strobe-like flashes between the buildings, irritating as Cameron drove me across campus to the records building. I had no proof, but it seemed that I’d become more sensitive to the light since Pluck’s thoughts in mine had become second nature. It was a small price to pay.
Cameron was silent, her hands alternately clenching on the wheel and relaxing in her private musings.
That shadows could be reasoned with was not going down well, seeing as we’d been exterminating them for thousands of years.
It was always easier to compound an error with more wrong than admit one had been made and make reparations.
“Go right here,” I said, and she glanced at her phone on the dash when it hummed, then turned it over to hide who it was.
Most days it didn’t matter that I didn’t have a car, but I was kind of stuck without my bike.
Maybe I should be nice. “You, ah, did good under the memorial,” I added, and surprise flooded her expression.
“I did, huh?”
It was more than a little sarcastic, and I smiled. “Yep. Very refreshing. You can’t imagine how tiring it gets. Everyone afraid what might happen if you touch shadow. Leave you clinically insane.” I pitched my voice in a tired falsetto. “Oh, no-o-o-o…”
Cameron’s grip on the wheel relaxed. “Shadows don’t generally attack unless provoked.”
True, but it was relying on “generally” that got people in trouble, and a mage going into a shadow grotto was the definition of provocation.
“Good thing you didn’t annoy her,” I said faintly.
Cameron seemed sincere, but I had believed that Lev was mooning after my roommate for two years, not spying on her.
I was a terrible judge of character. “It’s a left at the next intersection. ”
Cameron flicked on her turn signal and rolled through the stop. “How long on this?”
“About a mile?” I wasn’t surprised she didn’t know where the records building was. It was a piece of forgotten history that might not have ever been recorded.
Again she was silent, and I put a protective hand over Pluck’s pocket, glad he had been able to spend some time in the dark.
I’d always felt he lingered too close to the light because of me.
His faint fizz of assurance twined through my lingering concern, and my shoulders lost their tension.
“See that little adobe house after the miniature golf course? That’s it. ”
“Got it.”
She slowed, brow furrowing at the tiny drive before committing herself.
It had obviously been a home before the area had been rezoned light commercial, and the generously named “parking lot” could hold only three vehicles.
It was tight, especially with the empty pallets and bottles taking up one spot.
The low-slung building was St. Unoc’s original loom, relegated to paper storage when the university expanded and a larger vault was needed.
The basement-size vault was too small to be of any use, but the building itself had been the logical place to move both Ryan’s and Akeem’s offices after the original loom was destroyed.
“You want me to help sell your idea to Ryan? Risking a functioning vault is tricky.”
My reach for the car door hesitated. “Ah, no, but thank you. I think he’ll go for it. I’ll call you when I get a confirmation.”
Phone in hand, she brought up her GPS and dropped a pin. “Don’t bother. I’ll call you. I have to talk to my people. They’re going to want to know why I’m not bringing you in.” Her head came up, eyes wide and innocent. “You can get home from here okay?”
Yeah, I wouldn’t want to wait around and play taxi, either.
“I’m good.” I got out, my long-stick knocking the console as I wrestled with it.
“Thanks for the ride.” But she didn’t move when I slammed the door shut, and I peered in through the open window.
“Thanks for not carting me off to marshal jail?” I added, wondering why she hadn’t left, and a smile quirked her lips.
“You got Pluck, right?” she asked, and when I touched my pocket, she added, “Don’t leave St. Unoc.”
Yup. Hedging her bets. I patted the sill of the open window and took a step back.
“Perish the thought.” A little miffed, I started for the bougainvillea-draped archway that led to the front door as she put the car in reverse and drove away.
My soft-soled shoes were silent on the sun-bleached cobbles, and a lizard skittered in the gravel, almost unheard over the nearby traffic.
Pluck swirled out of my pocket when I found the shady path to the front door, little wisps of dark matter rolling from him as he took on his dog form. “You look a little thin,” I said, fingers numb with cold. “You sure you want to be out?”
He flicked an ear and a splat of energy hissed against the cool gravel. I’ve been reflecting on Ryan’s theory that shadows need to be visible to be accepted.
“I don’t think there will be anyone here who hasn’t met you,” I said.
Pluck huffed, his nose rising to point out something behind me. Even so…
I slowed, shoes scuffing as I saw my bike propped against the two-foot wall. “Someone found it!”
Not exactly.
Pluck’s thought iced through mine in excitement, and I followed his ear-pricked gaze to Marty standing in the drive between the pallets and empty dross bottles, her hands in her pockets and her hood pulled over her head.
She looked ready to run, and I knew in an instant no one had found her and brought her here.
She was here on her own. How did she know where I’d be?
I wondered, and then, Did Thoth follow her?
No. Pluck’s thought bubbled through mine, laced with worry. She’s alone.
“I, ah, didn’t mean to steal your bike,” Marty said, voice soft.
Pluck’s feet hazed in anxiety as my gaze darted from Cameron’s distant taillights to Marty. I didn’t want to scare her off again, so I didn’t move. “Thanks for returning it.”
“I’m not a thief.” Her gaze lifted to the street. “I have to go.”
Shadow spit, she was leaving, head down and pace fast. Pluck sank into himself, weaving through the cacti as a snake to cut her off. Seeing him billow up before her, she jerked to a halt.
“Pluck, let her go,” I said when he rose up almost as tall as she was, his hood spread in threat.
“Pluck!” I said louder when anger tightened her expression, and he hesitated.
“Let her go, but you and I both know she will be fighting this her entire life if she runs.” I paused to let her think about that.
“Marty, let me help you. Can we talk? I’ll get you to the bus stop if you want, afterward.
I promise.” Which wasn’t exactly a lie, but it wasn’t the truth, either.
She was a weaver. This was where she belonged. The trick would be to show her that.
She bit her bottom lip, gaze flicking to Pluck. “Can you get rid of that shadow following me?”
I shrugged, willing to say anything to get her to come inside. “That’s the goal. It would help if you came in.” I gestured at the door. “Tell us what you know?”
She took a deep breath, then nodded. Pluck immediately collapsed, and Marty stared at the silky black puddle for a moment before picking her way through the gravel front yard to join me. She glanced back once to see if he was following—which he was, the shadow hitting every possible dark spot.
This is risky. If Thoth thinks she will become a weaver, he might hurt her, Pluck fizzed when he reached me and coalesced into a dog.
Only if we can’t catch him, I thought. She’s safer with us than alone.
“Thank you,” I said softly to Marty, and she gave me a thin, nervous smile.
A good three feet between us, we headed for the unassuming front door with its potted cacti and flowering kalanchoes.
She was a weaver. There was no escaping it.
No going home. “I’m glad to see you. I’ve got the entire sweepers’ guild out looking for you. ”
“Yeah?”
Nodding, I opened the door and gestured for her to go into the small foyer done in tile and bright colors.
The traffic noise vanished when I shut the heavy door behind us, replaced by the whir of a fan and the faint sound of Jimmy Tross, the singer wailing persuasively from the front room to our left.
The large, low-ceilinged room was open to the hall through a huge archway, a comfortable mix of living room and game area to give sweepers somewhere to talk to Ryan or decompress after a hard day.
It was a far cry from the expansive and modern break room, offices, and adjoining lockers we had lost with the loom, but it worked.
The cool floor was tiled in shades of red, brown, orange, and purple, a loving rendition of the desert.
I propped my long-stick in one of the cubbies built against the long hallway wall with a feeling of belonging.
I wouldn’t need it here; the place was spotless, and I could feel Pluck’s thoughts ease into a fizzy hum of wary speculation.
To the other side of the foyer was the kitchen, still used as such, but the back two rooms that had once been stacked to the ceiling with boxes had been turned into offices. The paperwork was now in the attic, left to slowly yellow in summer’s heat.
“Not what I expected,” she said, eyes roving over the homey space. “It’s nice.”
Ears slapping, Pluck trotted past me, a ribbon of dark matter stretching between us. I’m going to check the vault. See if it’s empty. He pulled from me with a twang of unsatisfaction, and Marty shifted to stay out of his way, the woman clearly uneasy.
“You need to meet Ryan. He’s got his office here,” I said, hearing a faint conversation, and she followed me down the hall, her eyes darting over the narrow space made even tighter by the empty glass bottles lining it.
“Where did Pluck go?” she whispered.