Osier jumped to his feet and slammed the butt of his spoon against the tabletop. “Ungrateful. Selfish. Spoiled—”
“Look, look, I’m eating,” I said, and true to my word, I picked up the sandwich and took a bite. “It’s good.” And it was. I mean, it was gril ed cheese, so it didn’t exactly take refined tastes to enjoy it, but it was crispy on the outside and gooey in the center, which pretty much classified it as perfect.
As I ate, a car stopped out front and honked its horn. I crammed the rest of the sandwich in my mouth and jumped to my feet. “That’s my taxi.”
“Taxi? It’s the middle of the night. Girl should be sleeping.”
I didn’t disagree, but unfortunately, going back to bed wasn’t an option. I whistled for PC, and Osier bristled as the smal dog pranced into the room.
“Outta my kitchen,” he yel ed, charging forward with the spoon.
I scooped up PC before the brownie could reach him.
“He’l be out in a second,” I said, and then looked around for my purse. I’d left it in the bedroom. The taxi horn honked a second time as I dropped PC on the bed before opening my purse and encouraging him to crawl inside. I didn’t like the idea of taking PC with me to meet the kidnapper and make the exchange—even if I would have police backup—
but leaving him alone with Osier wasn’t an option.
The brownie was muttering about good girls, curfews, and bedtimes when I walked out the door. I left him to it, and and bedtimes when I walked out the door. I left him to it, and I actual y hoped to see the grumpy little guy again—more so because if I didn’t see him again, it would probably mean I was in jail. And headed for Faerie.
Or dead.
The cabdriver wasn’t happy when I told him where we were going, but at least he didn’t grumble too loudly as I slid into the backseat. I was headed to the bridge almost an hour early, but I was hoping for time to prepare before Hol y’s kidnapper arrived. I hadn’t decided if I would wait inside a magic circle or if I’d just have one ready, but I definitely wanted to have enough time to draw one.
We’d just reached the south side of the city where the tal skyscrapers vanished in favor of sprawling and dimly lit warehouses when Roy popped into the car.
“Uh, Alex, bad news,” he said.
I had time to turn, my mouth fal ing open in preparation for a question. Then a car pul ed out of a side street directly ahead of us, the glare of its headlights flooding the interior of the cab. The new car skidded to a halt in the middle of the intersection, and the cabbie stood on the brakes.
If the brakes had been powered by cursing, the cab would have frozen in space. As it was, they squealed loudly, and the car skidded to one side. I grabbed PC as the momentum threw us forward. My forehead bounced off the seat in front of me and the seat belt cut tight, bruising my hips and chest. But the cab stopped.
What the hell? I jerked my head up, squinting into the headlights that stil washed us in a blinding glare. “Bel ?” I asked, twisting to look at Roy.
He nodded as two more cars jetted to a stop behind the cab.
Crap. I had to get out of here. The warehouse district wasn’t big on traffic at one in the morning, so no chance the cars belonged to tourists.
“When I said warn me, I meant before they were to the point of setting up roadblocks,” I hissed, struggling with the point of setting up roadblocks,” I hissed, struggling with the seat belt. The cabbie must have stil had his foot on the brake, because the belt was locked around me with not an inch of give.
“Bel ’s been in hiding. I didn’t know until his men emerged,” Roy said, his gaze riveted on the back window.
The light fil ing the cab dimmed for a moment, as if something—or someone—had passed in front of the headlights. “Alex, you need to get out of here.”
No shit. The seat belt final y gave way and I tugged the strap of my purse over my shoulder as I slid across the seat.
“Your company has my card information,” I yel ed to the cabdriver, who’d thrown the cab into park and was climbing out of the driver’s seat. I didn’t try to stop him but wrenched my own door open.
Too late. Skimmers were already descending on the cab.
Now what?
“Find Falin,” I whispered to Roy as I jumped out.
“But he can’t—” the ghost began.
Yeah, Falin couldn’t see Roy. I knew that. Stil , someone had to know the skimmers had come for me, and my phone was in my purse, under the dog, so I didn’t exactly have time to cal 911.
“Just find him. Tel him what happened.” Somehow.
I hit the pavement running and darted around the closest skimmer. I dashed for the sprawling warehouse across the street—not that I had a plan for once I reached it. The purse in my arms shook as PC trembled, but I didn’t have time to comfort him.
Behind me, the cabbie cursed, yel ing at the car blocking the road. I didn’t see the spel that sent him to the pavement, but I sensed it: a medicinal-grade sleeping charm. I also sensed a couple of tracking charms—