Chapter 38
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Rowan’s headache intensified as they took the freeway into the city.
Henderson drove, Brew rode shotgun; Rowan had settled in the middle row window seat, Catherine and Yoshi beside her; Justin and Zeke shared the back.
Catherine chattered, Yoshi hummed an odd discordant song, and Rowan tried to listen to Cath through the pain forcing diamond needles through her head.
Then, as if she had passed through a wall, the headache faded between one mile marker and the next. Rowan let out a short breath, feeling Justin’s silent presence in the seat behind.
It was comforting, she had to admit. They had started calling him “Rowan’s shadow”—she’d heard it whispered, behind her back. It seemed they weren’t so scared of what she could do anymore; she had become a known quantity.
All the uneasy glances at her were a result of Justin’s presence.
He shifted, and she felt the movement. Trying to keep him out of the corner of her mind he usually inhabited was impossible. Even when he didn’t press, like this entire afternoon, she still felt him like a nagging, lingering toothache.
Only he didn’t hurt; if she tried to block, he was simply… still there. Like a phantom limb.
Henderson took an offramp, swerving to avoid something. “Look at that,” he said. “Bad driving strikes again.”
“Almost merged right into that semi. Wonder if he’s drunk?” Brew shook his head. “Little bit o’ bad karma.”
“Karma?” Cath snorted, her mohawk nodding. “There’s no such thing.”
Rowan rubbed gingerly at her face. Her eyes and nose throbbed, healing. Being around the others helped—they were a cohesive unit, and she was now included.
She’d never been a part of anything before, except her own family.
Her father’s face, the little gurgle in his chest…
No. She wouldn’t let it happen. Not to Justin, not to Catherine, not to any of them. She would fight with every ounce of her being to protect them.
And if he didn’t think she was ready…
He’s wrong.
Why would he act that way? How could he be jealous?
Not jealous. He hadn’t struck out at Ellis. He’d pushed her.
There is no “friend” in the practice room, he’d told her, his hand spread against her hip, warm and forgiving. They taught me that.
A dawning realization made her drop her hands into her lap. Catherine was staring at her. “You okay?”
“I just had an idea,” Rowan said softly. Cath blinked; reached over and caught Rowan’s chin, her fingernails scraping.
“Christ, you’ve healed up. That’s pretty powerful mojo you’ve got, baby.”
“Really?” Rowan examined her lacerated knuckles. They now looked smoother, as if the scrapes were weeks instead of hours old. “That’s a good thing, isn’t it?”
“I’ll say,” Cath breathed. “It’s incredible.”
“If that’s why my head was hurting, I’d rather it didn’t happen.” Rowan stared at the back of Henderson’s head as he drove. Her gaze suddenly clouded.
She felt something else, then, Delgado’s hand on her nape. His fingers closed, hard and warm, and his strength flooded her. “Your head’s hurting?”
“It was. But not now.” Rowan’s eyes narrowed. Something was wrong.
Her stomach rose, sharp and sour. She closed her eyes, searching for the source of the disturbance.
Immediately, Justin was there. I’ll anchor you. Go as deep as you need to. He didn’t care that she’d shouted at him, and he didn’t care that she hadn’t been kind.
He just offered his strength, a hot tide pouring into her spine, wrapping around the her core.
I don’t know what’s going on. “Something’s really wrong,” she said. “My head hurt, and then…”
Does it feel like Sigs?
“We’re not under attack,” Brew said. “If we were, I’d know.”
“I’d trust Rowan’s senses,” Yoshi said quietly. “Let her work.”
“What should we do?” Zeke piped up, shifting uncomfortably.
“Quiet.” Henderson sounded crisp. “Del?”
“Hang on.” He sounded funny, almost dreamy, disconnected. “Rowan, move a little bit. Here.” And he pushed, to show her.
She followed—and lost it. The sense of nausea drained away. “It’s gone. Maybe it was something else.”
Henderson was quiet.
“I’m sorry,” Del said; Cath gasped as if he’d sworn. His fingers were solid, warm and comforting. “I should have just let you do it.”
“It wasn’t you. Don’t pay any attention to me.” She tried to say it lightly, failed. “Maybe it’s nothing.” I’m jumping at shadows. And here I thought I was so competent.
“Not likely,” Henderson said finally, braking and pulling into a parking lot. “Let’s be circumspect tonight, ladies and gents. It’s 2100. Rendezvous by 2300, and everybody go with a buddy or two. Got it?”
Murmurs of assent. Brew pulled the door open; cold air sparkled into the van. Rowan stayed where she was. Zeke helped Cath out, Brew scanned the parking lot, and Yoshi exchanged a few words with Henderson.
They were all waiting, despite Henderson’s orders to rendezvous. It seemed that whatever Henderson’s Brigade did tonight, they would do it together.
“Ro?” Justin’s hand slid from the back of her neck.
“I’m here,” she said. At least he didn’t sound angry.
“You coming?”
“If I stay here, will you go?”
“No.” His faint, steely smile was almost audible. “I don’t want a beer that badly. But you’ll break Brew’s heart.”
“I guess I’d better go, then.” She moved across the seat and hopped out, catching her balance.
Instinct made her glance around—the parking lot was on Eighth Street.
She had a pretty good grasp of this part of the city by now, having come for shopping trips and supply runs with Cath and Justin so many times.
Justin unfolded himself from the black van, turning to close the side door. He paused just slightly, his awareness scanning the perimeter. “Looks clear.”
Cath slid her arm through Rowan’s. “Come on. Let’s go to the grocery store. If we get our junk food, we can all go to a bar.”
“You’re too young,” Brew shot back from Rowan’s other side.
“Says you.”
“Children, children.” Rowan was still trying for a light tone. She felt Justin behind her, suddenly thoughtful, a deep well of silence.
Rowan’s shadow.
“Okay, Mom.” Cath rolled her eyes.
“How did we ever get anything done without you?” Yoshi asked dryly.
“You just sort of blundered along.” Rowan rolled her eyes, in imitation of Cath.
The sudden burst of laughter—even Henderson made a sound of amusement—rewarded her. But in the middle of the laughter, a sudden uneasy feeling made Rowan almost stumble, as if a cold finger had traced up her spine.
She stopped dead, closed her eyes. Brew halted after realizing she’d halted, Justin stepped behind her.
“Row—” Cath began.
Delgado clapped his hand over her mouth. “Shhh. Gather up and give her some cover.”
Rowan’s eyes flew open. “We have to go back.” Her voice rang against pavement, fell flat into the gutter. The parking lot was deserted, the van crouching in a pool of shadow. “We have to go back now.”
“Why?” Zeke asked. “Goddammit! You coulda said something before.”
“We’ve got to go back,” Rowan insisted, suddenly, absolutely certain. “Right this minute. Now.”
“Back?” Henderson asked.
“Back to Headquarters. We don’t have much time.” I sound so sure.
Justin’s fingers closed over her shoulder, steadying her. “Everyone back to the van. She can feel Sigs, so let’s be safe.”
“Let’s move, troops,” Henderson said, and it was official.
“Awww, crap.” Cath sighed. “I was looking forward to Pop Tarts.”
“Hurry,” Rowan pleaded. They started back for the van, Justin’s arm snaking over her shoulders. She tilted forward, walking quickly and unsteadily, and he pulled her back.
“We are hurrying, angel. Just relax. We’ll get there in time.”
He sounded so sure, as well, that she almost believed him.