Chaos Choreography (InCryptid, #5)(91)
“You mean Malena,” said Alice.
“No, I mean Brenna,” I said. “She’s the show’s host, and she’s part of the local Nest. She needs to know what’s going on. Also, the people I heard talking in the subbasement confirmed that she wasn’t part of the snake cult, which makes her one of the safest potential allies we have left.” The salt-and-pepper prawns were gone, except for a single piece of chitin and a few slices of pepper. I made a sad face.
Dominic tapped me on the shoulder. I turned, and he presented me with a fresh carton of prawns. “I know how much you enjoy the cockroaches of the sea,” he said. “Alice was just explaining her plan to find Bon.”
“She won’t be at the flea market, but she won’t have gone far, either,” said Alice. “We need to figure out where the routewitches camp in this area, and Bon will be there.”
“Which gets us the counter-charms, got it,” I said, sitting down on the floor and opening my Chinese food. “It’s Friday. The show—and elimination—is next Thursday. We need to find these snake cultists and stop them before that happens.”
“On the plus side, we know they’re not going to kill anybody before then,” said Alice. “The only bodies we found in that room were people you knew.”
“Oh, yay: only my friends are in danger.” I didn’t want to be hungry. My stomach grumbled, and I picked up a pair of chopsticks. “I have rehearsal tomorrow. If that’s when you’re visiting Bon, I won’t be able to come with you. Or we could wait until Sunday and just go see her at the flea market.”
“I was hoping to be able to pick up the charms on Sunday, if she doesn’t have something already prepared,” said Alice. “There’s a chance she’ll need a little time, and I want us to have them before we go back to the theater Monday morning.”
“We’ll need them for Pax and Brenna, as well as the three of us and Malena,” I said. Putting it that way, I actually felt pretty good about the team we were assembling. I couldn’t ask Brenna to fight for us—dragon princesses weren’t exactly set up for dealing a lot of damage, and she couldn’t beat anybody to death with her spike-heeled shoes—but I wanted her to understand what was going on around her. Having a good source of inside information couldn’t hurt anything. It might help.
“That’s going to cost,” cautioned Alice.
“That’s why we have credit cards.”
“Routewitches don’t take money for things like this. They take . . . distance. Distance traveled, distance seen.” Alice sighed and plucked at her shirt. It was another tank top, this one dusky gray. “The shirt I was wearing earlier might work. I went through a lot of dimensions trying to get back to here, and I was wearing it the whole time. That’s got to have a little oomph behind it.”
“I am glad, I think, that no one in my immediate family was ever a witch,” said Dominic, in the slow, careful way he used when he was trying not to offend someone, but knew it might be unavoidable. “It seems very complicated, and like there are a great many rules to be learned and then avoided.”
“You’re not wrong,” I said.
Alice opened her mouth to speak, and froze as there was a knocking at the window. It was light, more a rapping than anything else. We all turned.
“Okay, first person who whispers ‘nevermore’ is getting kicked,” I said.
The rapping came again.
“I’ll answer that, shall I?” said Dominic. He walked over to the window, pushing his duster back to expose the hilt of the knife I’d given him for our six-month anniversary. And people say romance is dead.
He unlatched the window and eased it upward, shoulders tense as he prepared for the worst. What he got was Malena’s head appearing in the opening, upside-down.
“It is windy as shit and it smells like diapers out here,” she said. “I’m coming in.”
“By all means,” said Dominic, letting go of his duster as he stepped to the side. “I assume coming uninvited through motel windows is a point of chupacabra etiquette, and I should applaud your manners while shaming myself for my ignorance.”
“Nah, I’m just rude,” said Malena, swinging herself in through the window. Her hands and feet—both bare—were twisted into claws, covered with tiny black-and-orange scales. Spikes had broken through the skin of her shoulders, and pushed up the fabric at the back of her tube top in a disconcerting way. She saw me looking and shrugged, looking almost sheepish. “This is as far as I can go before my face starts getting weird and my tail starts popping out. It’s actually a little uncomfortable to stop here, but it’s better than getting shot for a monster when I start knocking on windows.”
“Right,” I said.
“Is that Chinese food?” asked Malena, changing subjects. Her hands and feet shifted back to the human norm, scales replaced by smooth brown skin, as the spikes on her back retracted. In a matter of seconds, no one could have ever guessed that she’d been the monster at our window. That was the trick with chupacabra: they hid in plain sight, except when they didn’t want to.
“Malena, why are you here?” I asked. It was a little past seven o’clock in the evening: while she could probably have made a large portion of her trip in the sewers, clinging to the walls to keep her pants clean, she would still have needed to walk aboveground at least partway. The risk of being seen didn’t seem to balance the reward of free Chinese food.