Halflings (10 page)

“I think Richmond’s the target,” Raven said, drawing Mace out of his thoughts.

“You think the three of you were sent here for Dr. Richmond rather than Nikki Youngblood?”

Mace’s gaze narrowed on the darker Halfling sitting straight across from him. The motion wasn’t lost on Raven,
who countered with a scowl. Mace was often struck by how opposite they were: Raven was the contradiction of everything Mace believed in.

Raven’s brow quirked.

Are you baiting me again?
If he was trying to shift the focus of this journey from Nikki to Richmond just to play some stupid power game, Mace wouldn’t fall for it.

Raven didn’t like Nikki, Mace could tell, and that fact gave him a surprising bit of pleasure. He didn’t want Raven to like Nikki. But he did want this supposed leader to do his job, and throwing out some ridiculous story about Richmond wasn’t going to alter the plan. Not once a plan was formed, anyway.

Will spoke, directing his words to Raven, and redirecting the fireworks between the two boys. “The hounds were after Nikki.”

Raven nodded a few times and actually seemed like he was thinking about the situation, the journey, the plan. “I don’t think we’re here about the girl. I think she’s just one piece of the puzzle.”

Mace stiffened. He didn’t want Raven pulling their attention in another direction while Nikki was in mortal danger.

Vine pushed his long hair from his eyes. “Could it be about both of them?”

Everyone looked at him.

He rolled a gum wrapper between his fingers. “You know, could this journey have something to do with Nikki
and
Dr. Richmond? I saw them talking after school and, I don’t know, they seemed pretty close.”

“Your perception is solid.” Will offered a nod of approval. “Good job, Vine. And good job as well, Raven. I’m surprised you picked up on a connection in the midst of such turmoil.”

Raven didn’t want a pat on the back, as was evidenced by his arms folding over his chest. He was frustrated at Will. And for once, Mace understood the frustration to some small degree. Will didn’t offer much help in the way of handing the boys a map of each journey. What he knew stayed buried until they unearthed it for themselves or until heaven whispered for him to tell.

“Let’s talk about what we know,” Will said.

Raven tossed a hand into the air and let it crash against the table. “Why don’t you start? After all, you’re the one with the direct line. Straight communication. We’re not allowed, remember?”

Will stood and planted massive hands flat on the table, only inches from where Raven’s lay. His soft words contrasted the intimidating posture. “If you choose anger as your path, you will not hear the quiet voice. When heaven whispers, I hear. But I see through a dark glass. To utter the images and echoes that pass before my eyes would only muddy your path. Clarity is in faith. And despite your guise, faith is as attainable for you as the next breath.”

Vine swallowed hard, choking on his gum. Will and Raven stared each other down as Vine coughed and hacked his gum into his hand.

Will didn’t see everything, but a
hint
of a direction would be nice sometimes. Seeing through a dark glass was one thing. Stumbling in the dark was something else.

Raven didn’t seem convinced. “Yeah, yeah, Master Yoda. Can we just move on?”

“Find your center, Raven. Sowing seeds of discord will neither move us closer to our goal nor help you become what you are destined to be in the age ahead,” Will said.

“Destined to be in the age ahead? You know, sometimes I
get sick of living for the day ahead. Sometimes I just want to live for right now.” Raven’s words were clipped and filled with self loathing.

Enough so, Mace almost felt bad for him.

“As do all,” Will agreed. “There is no crime in that. To feel that way is human. To act upon it is sin.”

Raven’s face twisted into a scowl, no doubt at being compared to humans.

“Do not despise your origin,” Will said.

“Sorry, I’m an outcast of both the heavenly and the earthly realms, so it’s a little difficult to
not
despise my origin. Oh, but you wouldn’t know how that feels, would you?”

Mace’s frustration grew. “Can we move past the narcissistic monologue and please get back on track? We were talking about Nikki and the importance of protecting her.”

Raven’s eyes slashed to him. “Ohhhhh. Somebody’s crushing hard.”

That was it. Mace jumped so fast his chair crashed to the floor. “What’s the matter with you?” He moved across the table, jarring their cups and causing a thin vase to teeter on one edge.

Vine stared mouth agape, but when the vase tilted his hand shot out, lightning fast, and caught the top-heavy bouquet. When he removed his hand from the glass, a long string of gum kept him partially attached. “Eeeew!” Staring at his palm, he rose and headed toward the kitchen.

Will motioned for Mace to sit. “You seem to be full of energy, Mace. Why don’t you tell us what’s on your mind.”

He pulled a breath and listened to the quiet ticking of the clock behind him.
I wish it didn’t sound like it was ticking away the days of Nikki’s life.
“I don’t know, Will. She’s no ordinary teenage girl. At least, I don’t think she is.”

“He’s led a bit of a sheltered life,” Raven said, cupping a hand around one side of his mouth and leaning toward Will.

Will gave him a warning glance.

Raven continued, unmoved. “She’s definitely no normal teenage girl.”

Vine returned to the table with an ice cube in his hand. “Why, Raven?” he asked, and his face slid into a deep, dimpled grin. “Because she didn’t fall all over herself when you strutted into the school?”

Raven looked over at Vine with contempt, but Mace saw that, as always when it came to Vine, it was masked by just the tiniest hint of fondness. The kid was lucky Raven liked him.

“Honestly, Will. We know next to nothing about the girl.” Mace cast a glance to Vine and frowned when a stream of water ran out of his hand. “Dude?”

Vine moved to show the melting ice in his palm. “I read today in
Woman’s Home Journal
you could remove bits of gum with ice.”

Raven chuckled. “Okay, there is so much wrong with that statement.”

“I read it too,” Will said. “The owners of the house left a stack of magazines in the pantry. That information was in one of them.”

Will had rented the furnished home after finding it on the internet. Mace liked the variety of rooms and the tall ceilings in the two-story Victorian. Best of all, the living room was huge, big enough to leap from.

Mace rubbed his face with his hands.

Vine dropped into his seat. “It’s not like I sat around all day at school reading women’s magazines,” he mumbled.

“Let’s hope not,” Raven interjected. “As if you don’t stand out enough, you gotta draw attention to yourself.”

“You should talk,” Vine countered. “I saw you swagger down the hall trying to get all the girls to look at you.”

“I don’t have to try, little brother. They can’t help themselves.”

Mace’s pulse pounded in his ears. “Can we please get back to the subject?”

“Yes,” Will said, and the air changed. He sat for long moments while each of the boys waited. “Something is stirring.”

The words put Mace’s wings on alert. He dropped his hands from his face.

“Nikki Youngblood is at an art gallery.”

“Is she in danger?” Mace stood, and both Vine and Raven were quick to follow his lead.

“Not yet, but she will be soon,” Will confirmed. “I feel an ancient evil reaching out to her. In fact, I’m starting to wonder if the hounds weren’t sent to kill her.”

“What? That doesn’t make any sense. Do you think they slipped through the midplane without instruction?” Mace asked.

“No. I think they were sent to torture her but not kill her.”

Mace’s gaze drifted from Will to Vine, then from Vine to Raven. The weight of Will’s words cut a jagged line of harsh reality through the room, a menacing reminder what was on the line for the pretty brunette if they failed.

Even Raven’s face drained of color. “There’s only one thing I can think of that’s worse than being killed by a pack of hell hounds.”

“What?” Vine asked.

“Being left alive by a pack of hell hounds.”

N
ikki’s nerves jangled like too much change in a pocket while she listened to the gallery owner.

“Your trio of paintings are hanging in room number three. I call it the lavender room.” While Nikki was wearing the outfit Krissy had picked out, she felt like a fashion victim next to Coleen Elgren, whose slick hair was scooped into a tight pony-tail at her neck, perfectly complementing her smooth black pantsuit and matching stiletto heels.
How can the woman be dressed so simply, yet so elegantly, and why aren’t her hands sweating like mine?

Nikki jerked a quick nod and inconspicuously turned her palms outward, hoping to catch a breeze from the air conditioner.

Coleen placed a slender hand on her shoulder. “The first gallery showing is always the toughest. Don’t worry. Your paintings are beautiful.” She flashed a chemically whitened row of perfect teeth. “We may even get an offer to purchase one.
Earlier in the day, a very handsome, and — judging by his custom fit Italian suit, I’d say, very rich — man stood in the room staring at them for nearly an hour.”

Several thoughts struck Nikki in quick succession. First, why would some wealthy Italian-suited guy stare at her paintings? Second, the color of lavender made her want to vomit. And third, there was nowhere to rub her hands! She couldn’t even rake them down her thighs because she was afraid of leaving handprints on the new black dress.

Coleen meandered toward the front entrance, where a young man in a white tux held a tray of dainty glasses filled with some bubbly drink. A young woman to his left offered fancy cubed cheeses and delicate chocolate-dipped straw berries, each one a tiny work of art in its own right.

Where’s Krissy? She was supposed to be here to hold my hand through this.

As if summoned by her wish, Krissy fluttered through the front door dressed in a forest-green wrap-around dress paired with a wide-wicked, cool silver bracelet Nikki’d never seen before.

She practically floated past the white tux guy and landed at Nikki’s feet. Unable to contain her excitement, she bounced up and down — but oh, so gently — and squeezed Nikki’s hands. “This is sooooo cool,” she squealed. The smaller girl’s curls bounced with each animated giggle.

Why couldn’t Nikki just relax and enjoy the night? Why did she have to be a string of cord wound so tight it might burst from the pressure? Krissy’s hand squeeze helped. She was right. It was cool.

“Neat bracelet,” Nikki said.

“Thanks. My mom bought it from a street artist in San Francisco. I thought it was apropos since we’re at an
art
gallery.”

Nikki dropped her chin a degree. “Are you doing the ‘take an obscure word to work’ thing again?”

Krissy beamed and Nikki calmed. “Apropos is not an obscure word. It’s utterly divine and I’m going to use it in conversation as much as humanly possible.” Krissy’s palms rubbed against Nikki’s, drawing her attention to their hands. She must have noticed the sweat.

Nikki made her best “help me” face at her best friend.

“You’re nervous?” Krissy asked.

Nikki nodded.

“How can you be nervous? You’ve fought in nationwide karate tournaments. This should be a piece of cake.”

Krissy was right again. But karate tournaments were a completely different beast. Nikki blanched at the thought of suddenly raising her hands in a fighting stance and pounding her fists into midair while bouncing on her tiptoes. Uh, that probably wouldn’t fly in art gallery central. Definitely not apropos. “This is completely different.” She drew Krissy away from the crowd and along the wall beside a series of sculptures in bronze appropriately titled
A Series of Sculptures in Bronze
.

“How is it different?”

“First of all, at fighting tournaments, I get to … you know … fight. Fighting helps calm my nerves.”
Oh dear, did I really just say that out loud?

Krissy blinked.

How nice, her eyeballs match her dress.
Nikki cocked her head. “You are the only friend I have who changes her eye color to match her clothes.”

Krissy dropped her hands to her waist. “I’m the only friend you have period, and my eyes don’t match my dress, they compliment it. See.” She tilted her head into the can light illuminating
one of the bronze statues. “The darker shade of the dress pulls the seafoam specks in my pupils, making them pop.”

“The pupils are the black part. I think you mean the irises.”

“Whatever.”

“Technically, you mean the seafoam pigment in your contacts.”

Krissy cast her eyes heavenward. “You make it sound so detached.”

“Sorry.”

“And you changed the subject. Why are you so nervous tonight? You love painting. It’s a huge honor that the gallery wanted you.”

Krissy didn’t have to tell her what an honor it was. Artists sometimes waited their whole lives for such an invitation. But hanging her work on a wall for all to see and criticize was maybe the most difficult thing she’d ever done.

With Krissy’s arrival, the tension had melted some. She guessed she’d have to add security blanket to her best friend’s list of responsibilities. Nikki felt she could now consider entering the lavender room, or maybe even saunter over and snag a hunk of cheese.

But then Krissy’s eyes turned to saucers and she drew a deep rib-shaking breath. Her pupils grew rounder and rounder until Nikki thought her eyes might pop right out of her head.

Nikki turned and glanced over her shoulder to see what had caused her friend to pale to ghost-white, then arc a rainbow of pink shades that could rival the blush section of the MAC counter.

“What are they doing here?” Krissy hissed.

The three tall, broad-shouldered guys strolled through the entrance, each one looking as comfortable in the art gallery as
a butcher in a meat market. Even the young one with the long platinum hair oozed confidence, his light eyes scanning the walls of priceless treasures. In fact, all three sets of eyes were searching the surroundings. Nikki marveled at this, because they weren’t inspecting the artwork, they were
probing the room
. The younger one scanned the right. Raven, hands sunk into his pockets, examined the left, and Mace searched right down the middle, his gaze landing here and there on different people as he went. And if she wasn’t mistaken, they were
smelling
the room. It was subtle. If you weren’t absorbing the whole scene, you wouldn’t even notice. But now and then, one would tilt his nose and sniff.