This was because Bare Snow had pulled her blue sundress up over her head. Elves apparently didn’t wear bras; the female was totally naked. The harsh artificial light of the streetlight gleamed on Bare Skin’s white skin, picking out a delicate, nearly invisible design on her hips and abdomen. It seemed like someone had stenciled her with Celtic knots across her torso with a concealer pencil. She would have never guessed that Bare Snow had such elaborate tattoos because of how much skin her clothes exposed, but even if she’d flashed panties, the lines would have been covered by her dress.
“What are you doing?” Law managed as she realized that the markings were spells like the ones tattooed down the arms of the sekasha. An ink that matched Bare Snow’s skin color had been used so that they were almost invisible.
“Going hunting.” Bare Snow pulled out two long wooden knives. Where had she been hiding them? They looked like the sekasha’s magically sharp swords. Did this mean that the assassins of Elfhome were some kind of holy ninjas? “Stay by the car. I’ll engage them.”
“By yourself? It will be safer if we tag team—holy shit!”
Bare Snow had whispered something in Elvish. The spell tattooed on her body gleamed for a second and the female vanished from sight. Even the wooden knives vanished. There was a distortion on the seat beside Brisbane like a shimmer of heat.
The distortion vanished as Bare Snow went out the window.
Law breathed another curse in surprise and dismay. It was one thing to know that Bare Snow’s mother was a trained assassin; it was another to realize that she had taken eighty-some years to teach her daughter everything she knew before she died. Worse, even if they found Windwolf, Bare Snow’s profession was written on her skin. Nothing they could say could outweigh that evidence.
“Yup, stay far, far away from the viceroy while saving him.” If they did it right, it should be easy as pie. But as Widget noted: pie really wasn’t that easy.
Law cautiously opened her door and stepped out of the Dodge. It was almost midnight. Night had closed in tight. Rimfire washed in ribbons of green and red over the river, marking how close they were to the border, and yet so far. The sumac bushes had taken over the parking lot of the old wire spring and form factory. Beyond the factory’s low-slung modern buildings, there were rows of brick warehouses from the 1800s. The windows were a checkerboard of broken glass, empty holes and boarded-over. On the other side of the street, the long train rumbled and squealed and whined to a shuddering stop. The engine must have reached the Rim, miles down the track, and was waiting for Shutdown.
Somewhere nearby were Windwolf, his stalkers, and by the sound of it half a dozen large dogs.
Brisbane took advantage of the open door and scrambled out of the cab, grunting and grumbling at the effort. The problem with having a porcupine as a pet was trying to stop it equaled getting dozens needle-sharp quills embedded into your hand.
“Brizzy!” Law whispered. “Shit.” True to his nature of being contrary, he beelined for the white SUV, grumbling loudly as he went. “Oh, Jesus Christ!” Which was both profane and a very short prayer for divine intervention. “Shhhh!”
He wouldn’t be quieted any more than he’d be stopped on his waddle to the Explorer. Porcupine grumbling sounds weirdly like a baby trying to talk. She could almost imagine him trying to explain why he was going to get them all killed for the sake of something delicious he could smell in the SUV.
Law jerked her baseball bat out from behind the seat and headed for the SUV. If she could find what was luring him to the Explorer, she could use it to get him back in the Dodge. “That’s it. I’m getting a dog. A little one. One I can just pick up and run with.”
There was no one in sight. Not the driver of the SUV nor Bare Snow. A block or two away, the dogs were howling with frustrated excitement. They’d lost Windwolf or he’d found a perch spot out of their reach. What was Bare Snow doing? Was she heading toward the dogs or was she looking for the driver?
Brisbane scrambled into the open back. He obviously was following the scent of ripe saenori. Someone else had also recently arrived from Summer Court. The back seats were folded down and it looked like a small armory arrayed inside. There was even a shoulder-mounted rocket launcher.
“Shit,” Law breathed. Andre and his people had come armed for bear. She suddenly felt outmatched. “Brizzy. Come on. We need to go back and get my shotgun.” And maybe a Molotov cocktail.
Brisbane ignored her, digging through a travel sack tucked beside the rocket launcher. “Naaaah, nori, aaah,” he muttered and as always her brain desperately wanted to translate it into something understandable. Something reasonable. Something less stupidly stubborn.
Law growled. She leaned into the Explorer, carefully nudged him aside and fumbled with the fabric in the shadowed interior. “Come on. Come on.” There were four of the fruits in the bag. She tossed them quickly into the weedy darkness beside the car. Complaining, Brisbane followed the fruit.
Law heard the heavy footsteps approaching; boots crunching on gravel. Bare Snow had taken off her cowboy boots. Law ducked down, gripping her baseball bat tightly. Key to a good ambush was to catch the person totally unaware and make the first hit hard as possible. It wasn’t the first time she’d jumped a male with a gun, but never one this heavily armed. It wasn’t a case of “a knife” or “a pistol” or “a rifle” but all of the above plus a few grenades to boot.
She rose just as he came around the back of the SUV. Her bat was cocked back as far as she could get it. All her strength and mass went into a line-drive hit. Warned by her movement, Andre started to raise the assault rifle he’d been carrying. The bat hit the rifle barrel with a crack of wood against metal. The rifle flew out of his hands, crashing into the sumac bushes along the berm of the road.
He lashed out faster than she’d thought possible. She tried to roll with the punch but it was like trying to dodge lightning. His fist connected with her chin, and the night flickered to total blackness as she fell stunned to the ground. He shouted something and slapped his hand down onto her chest. There was a crinkle of paper and a flare of light and then it felt like electricity shot through her body, making her shudder.
He stomped down on her chest and pinned the paper to her as she writhed on the ground. He stared down at her like she was a pinned frog in a science class. “Who are you? You look like one of those foragers. Picking weeds and mud crabs.”
“Fuck you,” she snarled out between her clenched teeth.
He snorted. “Doubtful. That spell works like a Taser on humans. You’re not going to be doing anything until I allow it.” He glanced about for his rifle. “What the hell are you doing out here in the middle of the night?”
“Going…to stop…you…from killing…Windwolf,” Law forced out. Hopefully he might think she had a whole army at her back and flee.
“A little river rat like you?” A laugh slipped out before he frowned at her with worry. “How do you know what we plan? Who have you told?”
Law thought of Widget sitting with her foot up in the air and all the children at Usagi’s. “Fuck you.”
He pulled out a slip of paper with a spell inscribed on it. “Who knows?”
“Everyone! Andre Brousseau. Everyone knows what you are.”
He knelt to slap the paper against her cheek and spoke an Elvish word.
Pain like a hot dagger shot through her face. She screamed.
He leaned close. “Who knows?”
There was the warning rattle of Brisbane’s tail. The porcupine might be slow and stubborn but he wasn’t stupid. He knew that Law was being hurt. Law cried out louder to cover the noise.