Binding the Shadows (Arcadia Bell #3)(18)

I glanced toward the racetrack and felt the ground-shaking rumble of rusty old beaters steering into place behind the starting line. It was almost eight. About time for the races. I wanted to have the name of the Plymouth owner before they started. Feeling antsy, I swung my attention back to Freddie, who was facing the other way. As he laughed, he leaned against a shiny yellow car, allowing me to see the person with whom he’d been conversing. Not a man, but a boy. A blond boy with a pale green halo. He adjusted the fit of his crimson Speed Demon baseball cap, pulling it down tighter . . . which made his ears fan out like two pale seashells glued to the side of his head.

Well, well, well. Theater makeup or not, it was the blond elf who robbed me.

The boy laughed at Freddie. As he did, his gaze drifted to mine. His eyes widened for a moment. Yeah, that’s right. Recognize me, don’t you? He spun on his heels and took off.

“You little pig f*cker,” I mumbled as I bolted after him.

The boy was young, skinny, and fast. He wove in and out of the crowds mingling near the cars on display, heading toward the back of the lot. Adrenaline spiked through my body as I pushed myself to catch up. I heard Lon yelling my name, but I didn’t look back.

He made it to the end of the lot. Towering in front of him was a wall of cement bricks painted with the Morella Racetrack logo. Beyond it was a garage for the racecars. No way he could scale the thing. Either he could head to the left behind the grandstands, or turn around and try to make his way past me, back through the lot.

He did neither.

Instead, he made a sharp right turn, heading for a rusty chain-link fence that separated the showcase lot from the main dirt parking lot outside the racetrack. With feline grace, he jumped several feet and grabbed the top of the fence, then pushed himself over it.

Dammit!

Chain-link fences and I don’t mix. The last time I went over one was at the abandoned putt-putt course outside of La Sirena with Lon. I nearly cleaved myself in two in the worst possible way. But I’d be damned before I let this little ratfink get away from me. Mentally girding my loins, I climbed the fence as best I could. Rust bit into my fingers as I groaned and swung a leg over the top. It felt all wrong. In trying to keep the prized parts between my legs safe, I overshot and tumbled over the fence. The air whooshed out of my lungs when my shoulder hit the dirt.

I ignored the pain and scrambled to my feet.

The kid’s red cap danced in the distance. I bounded between two parked cars and skirted a sign identifying the color-coded parking area. He was two rows away from me. A car backed up in front of him, causing him to skid. Maybe it was just the break I needed. For a moment, I had a vision of how crazy I must’ve looked, chasing after a skinny little boy like he was the devil. But what did I care? They’d all do the same thing if they knew what he’d done to me and Kar Yee.

Zigzagging through unevenly parked cars, I halved the distance between us while he sidestepped the moving car. He glanced back at me, looking like a frightened rabbit. I wanted to shout something cool and intimidating, like “you’re dead!” but frankly, I was huffing and puffing too hard to spit out the words.

Maybe I should have tried.

To my surprise, the boy pitched to the side, then leapt onto the hood of a parked leopard-spotted van and sprinted over the top of it, jumping off to land in a cloud of dust in the next row. Showoff. But a few seconds later I saw why: the cars were parked too close together here. I mentally grumbled and followed suit.

The leopard-print hood creaked with my weight. Just as I leapt to the roof, I heard a loud grunt from the boy. An oh-too-familiar noise followed: the buzz and pop of electric current being overloaded. Multiple explosions cracked through the parking lot before everything went dark. White sparks showered the air above me . . . in front of me . . . they fell from every light pole in the parking lot. Glass tinkled across the tops of cars. A few random shouts echoed around the lot. The lights inside the racetrack were still on. Must’ve been wired separately. At least I knew the kid’s knack had some limits.

As I teetered on top of the van, I caught sight of his red cap. He was picking his way around a damaged light pole. No night vision goggles. He was hindered like I was. Glass crunched under my feet as I jumped to the ground. I dashed across the dirt lot, weaving through parked cars until I saw the boy skid to a stop in front of a car. He bent low, struggling with keys.

My lungs burned as I picked up speed, trying to catch him. He got the door open. I wasn’t going to make it.

No way in hell was I letting him get away again.

I stopped short in the middle of the aisle and called up the Moonchild power. The grays and blues of the parking lot shadows turned black as my pinpoint of blue light appeared . . . and along with it, those same strange whispers I’d heard before. No discernible language or voice. It struck fear in me, but at least it didn’t catch me off-guard like it had when I tried to use the power during the robbery. I ignored the whispering and focused on the task at hand.

No screwing around this time. I didn’t bother concentrating on the binding symbols, nor trying to shape the blue light as I had in the past. Like I had at Merrimoth’s, I just poured all my willpower into one singular thought—

Trap.

The boy made a choking sound as my immediate environment snapped back into view. The whispering hushed. And there was nothing foreign slithering down my leg. So far, so good.

Silver fog shrouded the air in front of me, creating a tunnel of swirling ethereal light that led to the blond boy. He was trapped inside it, sprawled on the front seat of his car, one leg dangling over the doorframe, gasping for breath.