Falling Light (Game of Shadows #2)(27)

An array of colorful Victorian houses with tall, wide porches passed by outside her window. The town twinkled with charm and serenity in the deepening twilight. It epitomized the small-town American myth, like Cabot Cove from the television detective series Murder, She Wrote.

Only people were murdered every week in Cabot Cove. Or maybe, she thought, it was more like the location in a Stephen King novel, where wholesome-looking restaurants had red-and-white-checkered tablecloths, but evil rotted underneath the quaint scenery.

The route Michael was driving clicked into a pattern. She realized he was working to get them as close to Lake Michigan as he could without drawing attention to them. Every time she turned her senses toward the shoreline, she sensed an oily dark whispering at the edge of her mind. Her stomach tightened.

They had to pass through that malevolent barrier. Somehow they had to get on a boat and sail to an island before an impending storm hit. The task sounded worse than impossible. It sounded like lighting oneself on fire and jumping off a cliff.

She chewed her lip as doubts attacked. She asked carefully, “It’s hard to wrap my brain around the fact that Astra has the capacity to create a storm so big it can block our presence on radar.”

“She’s not actually creating the storm,” he said. “She’s working with natural forces to create the storm.”

Mary paused as she thought about that. She didn’t see the difference. “What does it mean that Astra’s calling in all her favors?”

He shot her a quick glance. “You remember the small wind spirit that helped you in South Bend?”

“Of course. And you sent it away.” She remembered how bitter she felt at the time.

“There are wind spirits in the world that are much larger and more powerful.”

Gretchen, the psychic Mary had visited in South Bend, had talked about wind spirits. “Do you mean like the First Nation thunder beings, the Wakean?”

“Exactly like that.”

She blinked. “How did Astra grow acquainted enough with the Wakean that they would owe her favors?”

“We don’t have time to talk about it anymore right now,” he said. “Just trust me, if she said a storm is coming, it’s coming.”

He pulled parallel to a car parked on the side of the street, then signaled and reversed into the parking space behind it. Mary looked at the nearby building. It was a huge old house that had been converted into a law office, already closed for the night.

“I trust you,” she said. She kept her voice steady and patient. “I’m asking all these questions, because maybe I do sometimes still have a bit of a problem with Mister Enigmatic, and I need to understand what is going on.”

He rubbed the back of his head. “I promise that Mister Enigmatic will take more time to explain things when we’re not in so much danger.”

She felt her mouth quirk into a reluctant smile. “Is that ever going to happen?”

His eyebrows rose. He smiled back. “If we can pull this off, it should happen soon. As far as the Deceiver and his drones are concerned, it should seem like we’ve disappeared off the face of the earth.”

“Okay,” she said. That sounded a lot better than lighting themselves on fire and jumping off a cliff. “I’ve got more questions, but they can wait. Thank you.”

“I’m sorry about Mister Enigmatic.” He unbuckled his seat belt, twisted and dug into his black bag. “I expect he’s a pretty maddening character.”

“I like him when I’m not scared,” she told him. “He’s a man of mystery.”

He snorted and pulled a dark cap out of the bag. He handed it to her. “He’s a social misfit who’s not used to talking to people or explaining himself. Tuck your hair up in this. It’s too distinctive.”

She took the cap and jammed it down on her head, her attention snagged by the trees across the street. Branches were beginning to whip in the rising wind that blew off the Lake. She glanced at the heavy clouds amassing in the darkened sky. If Astra could instigate something of this magnitude, no wonder Michael believed it was to their advantage to unite with her.

Mary fought to keep from sounding as awestruck as she felt. “It looks like our help is arriving.”

He glanced at the sky. “It’s going to be an interesting boat ride. I want you to take the nine-millimeter with you.”

“Yeah, I don’t think so.” He just gave her a steady look. She growled, “Fine, although I don’t know where I’m going to put it.”

She looked down at herself. Her jacket was in a different part of the state. In their stress and preoccupation, they had left it back at the cabin. All she had was her borrowed flannel shirt, and the temperature was plummeting fast. She suspected she was going to be sorry about losing that jacket soon.

He paused, glancing around to make sure there weren’t any close pedestrians. “Tuck it into your jeans under the shirt.”

“Wait, I forgot. I’ve still got my purse.” Gingerly, she took the nine-millimeter and an extra clip from him. She tucked both into her purse, grumbling, “Just my luck I’ll drop the purse in front of a cop and everything will spill out.”

“You’ll be fine. Keep watch for me.” She watched the street while he stuffed things into a backpack and wiped down surfaces. “Got it,” he said after a few moments. He straightened in his seat, resting the backpack on his thighs, those sword gray eyes assessing the scene in front of them.