Especially the people that mattered. If he got right down to it, it sure seemed like he’d done a good job cracking up every relationship that had ever mattered. What did people expect? His foot had itched for as long as he could remember. He’d never lied about that, never pretended he was anything but what he was.
If Griff wanted it all to end, there wasn’t much Hitch could do about it. But he could hardly let it lie either. He’d only be here for the week. If things didn’t get put to rights now, they never would. He wasn’t about to come begging—especially since he had left, in the beginning anyhow, to keep his family clear of his own troubles. There had to be some other way to get it all sorted out.
“Durn your stubborn hide anyway, Griffith Hitchcock.”
He stared up at the gray-black underside of the cloud. It drifted on past the moon and released the light once more. Maybe it meant rain. From the looks of things, the valley sure needed it.
Taos gave a yip, as if reminding him they were getting nowhere fast.
He looked down. “Well, why not. Sometimes nowhere’s the best place to be.”
A smaller shadow zipped across the ground.
He looked back up.
A big bird, its wingspan easily a couple of yards wide, circled twice just above the low cloud. Then with a shriek, it soared up into the haze.
Another shriek echoed down: and this time it sounded suspiciously human.
Something—or some_one_—fell from the cloud and hit with a thump in the cornfield next to the road.
What in the sam hill—? Hitch blinked.
Taos gave a bark, and they both started running. Hitch clambered over the fence and elbowed through the heat-stunted corn. The body had fallen only a couple dozen yards away. He kept his face pointed in the general direction, pretty sure of being able to find it.
He cast a glance skyward. That cloud was wafting on by, faster than it had any business doing in a breeze this faint. And where had it come from anyway? Thunderclouds like that built up throughout the day. They didn’t sprout out of nowhere, particularly in a place with so little humidity as western Nebraska.
He reached the spot roundabout where the body had fallen and peered into the night, listening. No moans. No sounds of life at all.
And then a head in an old-fashioned bowler hat appeared above the corn. The man turned, and his face flashed white in the moonlight. Beneath a broad forehead and an aquiline nose, a beard outlined his jaw. Nobody could be standing after a fall like that—thirty feet at least—but nobody else was crunching about in the field.
“Hey.” Hitch swam toward him through the corn. “You all right?”
The man stared at him. He looked to be in his early thirties. His eyes were hooded and wary, lips pushed out in a thoughtful scowl. As the big cloud sailed on by, the flicker of the moon revealed that, even in the heat, he wore a brown coat down to his knees and a red scarf.
He shifted and gave Hitch a glimpse of the smashed corn at his feet—and the lifeless body of a burly man.
Hitch stopped short.
The bird—a strange-looking brown eagle—swooped low over their heads.
Hitch ducked instinctively.
But the stranger didn’t budge from staring back at him. The bird, fully two feet from beak to claws, circled around. It landed on the stranger’s hat, pushing the brim lower over his forehead.
It couldn’t be a coincidence that somebody as obviously out of place as this gent was standing right over the top of the eighth body to fall from the sky. This was Zlo. Had to be. And even though Zlo obviously couldn’t have pushed this man to his death, he was tied up in it somehow.
Hitch’s heart rate started double-timing. Before he could think about it too hard, he lunged forward and caught the man’s arm, whirling him around.
The idea was to get his arm up behind his back before Zlo had a chance to draw any weapons. But Zlo was at least five inches shorter than Hitch, and he moved like a greased pig. He spun with Hitch’s momentum and kept right on spinning until his arm slipped free.
The bird squawked and flapped away.
Zlo pulled the flare gun from his belt and held it between them. “I have no fight with you.” His accent wasn’t as thick as Jael’s.
Hitch stayed back, stance wide, hands in front of him. “Fine by me, brother.” He pointed at the body. “All I want to know is where that guy came from.”
Zlo grinned. “He is good sign. My people are finished with taking control.”
“Control of what?”
“Schturming.”
“What’s Schturming?” Hitch ran back through his brain for the biggest airplane he could think of. “A Handley-Page bomber? A hot-air balloon? What?”
“It is place where we pretend not to envy your world. But I think maybe it will be your world that will envy us.”
“What does that mean?”
“It does not concern Groundsmen. Not yet.” Zlo turned up the corner of his mouth. He seemed to be enjoying the fact Hitch had no idea what he was talking about.
“I’ll say it concerns me,” Hitch said. “You people keep falling on top of me!”
Zlo looked around, a smidge of theater in his expression. “I like your town. Very rich.” He grinned fully, and his front teeth sparkled, as if they were capped with silver or gold. “When I return, I will not be falling this time. I can promise you that.”
“Yeah, and do you promise you’re not going to go shoving girls out in front of you?”
The grin disappeared. Zlo took a step toward Hitch. “This girl? Jael Elenava—you know where she is?”
Hadn’t taken Zlo any time at all to grab that bait. Hitch stifled a growl. Probably should have let that one alone.
He moved to the side. “All I know is they found a body out by the lake this morning.”
Another step forward. “She was not killed. I saw her footprints.”
Well, it had been worth a shot. “Disappointed?” he asked.
Zlo shrugged. “I do not care if she dies or lives. If you want her, you can have her.” He tapped the center of his chest. “All I want from her is this.”
Her pendant? Hitch frowned and shook his head. “Maybe I can help you find it. My brother’s a deputy sheriff. Lives down the road here. He’ll help you retrieve what’s yours and get you on back home.”
“Deputy sheriff?” Zlo snorted. “I think not. But if you find yakor for me, I will promise you no more bodies will fall. I cannot leave you without it. I tell you that is no threat, it is just fact. I will even pay for it, yes? If you want nikto girl, she is yours too. And if you do not want her, I get rid of her for you. Is this deal?”
Hitch dropped his placating hands to his sides. “Look, you’re going to stay away from that girl.”
Zlo’s features stilled. “Fine. _Idi i bud’ proklyat._”
That didn’t sound too much like “farewell and good luck.”
Zlo stepped forward, the flare gun still in front of him.
Hitch’s choices had just rapidly narrowed themselves to one of three: get shot, turn and run like a scared rabbit, or take this guy from the front and probably still get shot.
He feinted to the right, then dove straight at Zlo. His shoulder caught the man’s gut and bowled him off his feet. Zlo lost all his air in a hard exhalation.