The little girl narrowed her eyes. “Why you wanna go to the police? They’ll just throw you back in the loony bin.”
“I swear, I’m not escaped from an asylum.” At least that’s what Shayera thought the girl meant by loony bin. “But I’m lost and have no cash,” she said, hoping she was using the correct wording.
The little girl seemed to consider it for a bit before finally nodding. “Yeah, okay. Just to the po-po, after that you’re on your own.”
A sense of relief like she’d not felt since arriving here washed through her and Shayera beamed. “Thank you.”
“Whatever. C’mon.” The girl turned and walked toward the smarmy-looking Paco.
Shayera nibbled on the corner of her lip because she had the terrible sense that she should not for any reason trust this Paco character, but knowing she was literally at their mercy, she followed.
Up close Paco was even more off-putting than he’d been from her earlier vantage point. Covered in pockmarks, his burnished bronze skin gleamed with sweat. His stench was carried to her on the stiff, briny breeze and it was all Shayera could do not to gag at the odor of his unwashed body.
“Who are you?” he asked in a thick Spanish accent.
Opening her mouth, Shayera meant to answer, but the girl interjected. “She’s mine, that’s what she is. We ain’t filching off her—she ain’t got nuthin’ no ways. We’re taking her to the pigs. You got a problem with that?” She shoved her finger into the boy’s bird chest.
Rubbing at the sore spot, he glowered but shook his head.
In that one exchange Shayera realized she’d been lied to. Paco was most definitely not the one in charge.
“What is your name anyway, lady?” The girl turned.
“Shayera,” she said, wiping her palm across her dress once more.
“I’m Brenna,” the girl said, and then before Shayera could move away, she grabbed hold of her hand. Bracing for the transference of power, Shayera’s entire body stiffened up. Brenna clearly noticed because her gaze widened. “Don’t like to be touched, yeah? That’s fine, I get it.” She dropped Shayera’s hand but didn’t act in any way like the touch had affected her.
Curling her fingers to her furiously beating heart, it dawned on Shayera that mother had mentioned Earth was not full of magic. Obviously her powers were void here and as much as that was a relief, it was also a worry, because if her siren call didn’t call it also meant her only form of protection was nullified.
“Yo, Frankie,” Brenna called toward a redheaded, skinny mass of gangly knees and bony elbows sitting beside a Dumpster.
The teenage boy looked up, and he too had a hard glint in his eyes. “What, boss?”
Brenna snorted, obviously realizing that Shayera knew the truth. “You stay there. I’ll be back, keep doing what you supposed to, got it?” She all but growled that last bit, and ten or not, Shayera had to admit to being slightly intimidated by this hard-as-nails girl.
The boy gave a thumbs-up and then went back to gazing around the park.
“C’mon then.” Brenna jerked her head. “Cops this way.”
They turned and Shayera pointed. “Just us? No Paco?”
The girl laughed, finally appearing as young as she actually was. “Nah, the sentries stay. They can do without me for a bit. So tell me bout yourself, Red, ’cause I know you ain’t from round here.”
Running her fingers through errant strands of curls, she sighed. “That obvious?”
Once again they were back on the sidewalk, but now that the girl was by her side, Shayera noticed people were giving them both a wide berth. No more were people just rushing into her as if she were invisible. Another thing she noticed was the way women hugged their purses to their chests and how men kept a hand glued to the pocket where they kept their wallets when the girl walked past.
It was obvious to Shayera that this girl, though acting a savior at the moment, was likely not someone she wanted to hang around for long. There was a nagging feeling in the back of her mind that as helpful as Brenna was being right now, she wouldn’t always be.
“Couldn’t be more obvious even if you was wearing a sign around your neck.” Brenna laughed and picked at her thumbnail.
Just then a woman with a stroller walked slowly by. The woman was thin and had streaks of salt-and-pepper hair and wore a plain black dress, and her skin looked aged and very brown. She kept her head down and was chattering away under her breath at the baby inside the carriage.
Likely a grandmother out for an afternoon stroll. Shayera smiled, at least until Brenna kicked her foot out, tripping the poor woman who hadn’t been on the lookout. With a cry she lost her balance and as she fell, the stroller toppled with her.
Terrified for the child’s safety, Shayera rushed forward, nearly breaking her neck as she leapt, stretching her arms out desperately to right the vehicle before the babe fell out.