Bedlam Boyz(37)

"Oh, God!"

She stared in horror. The warehouse floor was splattered with blood and worse, bullet holes in the wooden boxes and walls. Five young men were lying motionless on the floor . . . she moved to the closest blood-spattered boy and searched for a pulse on his carotid artery.

He was dead.

So were the other boys. From the temperature of the first boy's skin, Elizabet knew it had happened at least an hour before, maybe longer. She leaned against one of the shattered crates, breathing deeply. These boys were dead . . . there was nothing more she could do for them. But from the magic she could still feel rippling through this place, she knew that Kayla had been here, and that the girl had healed someone, or more than one person. She cringed at the thought of Kayla doing a multiple healing. The girl is powerful, true, a hundred times more than myself. But if laying hands on one person is enough to make me nearly faint, what would healing several people at one time do to Kayla?

First things first. Survey the damage, learn everything you can, and then draw your conclusions. Don't jump to conclusions; conclusions can be deadly. There's no margin for error here, not now.

She walked through the warehouse, being careful not to disturb the blood marks on the floor. Yes, there had been more wounded people here, by the looks of it—at least a dozen, all told. And the traces of magic . . . six places where she could sense magic, still glowing faintly against the concrete of the floor.

Six healings? That would've killed me for certain, and I don't think even Kayla could've survived that.

No, she was sure that she would've known if Kayla had died here. There would have been something, some sign of it.

She heard the sound of a car pulling up outside the warehouse and moved quickly toward the office at the back of the building. Inside the darkened office, she saw another door leading to the outside. But she could hear footsteps on the concrete outside. She pressed herself back against the wall, out of sight of the large glass window that looked out onto the warehouse.

"My, what a mess." The voice was feminine and distinctly sardonic.

"They're all dead," a male voice said.

Elizabet risked a glance through the open glass window, wanting to see who was talking so cavalierly over the bodies of those dead boys.

The pair looked normal enough. An older silver-haired man in a gray business suit, and a young dark-haired woman in a black miniskirt, blouse, and fashionable jacket, talking calmly as they stood amid the bodies and blood. It was that calm that frightened Elizabet as she ducked back into hiding, and something else that took a minute to register.

Their ears. Their long, curved, pointed ears.

She knew what they were. Elves. The Faerie Folk. Even as the shock hit her, she knew that it was true. Gram had talked of them once, when she was already in the nursing home, about how she'd danced with elves on a warm Georgia summer night. Tall, graceful, inhumanly beautiful elves, who had whirled her around in a wild midnight dance before vanishing away again at sunrise. Elizabet hadn't thought anything of it at the time, thinking it was only a dying woman's fever dreams.

The elves Gram had met were happy, benevolent creatures. This pair was more alien than that, with their obvious indifference to the dead boys on the floor. She didn't know why they were here, but guessed that it wasn't a social call. If she could get out of here without them realizing that she was here at all. . . .

She edged as close as she could to the open window, listening intently.

"Any sign of the human mage?" Elizabet thought she could hear disappointment in that quiet male voice.

"Not unless the mage is one of these dead idiots on the floor, my dear Perenor," the girl said. "No, I think our mage has fled again. It's been damn difficult to track that creature down. Once it stops using magic, I can't follow it at all. . . ."

Kayla! They're hunting Kayla, these elves!

"It's only a matter of time until you find it, Sharanya. I have complete confidence in you, m'lady."

Elizabet glanced at the closed door and wondered if she could open it without the Fay noticing her. She could crawl to the door out of view of the window, that wasn't a problem, but then she'd have to stand up and unlock the door. . . .

She crouched down and crawled across the cluttered office, straightening very slowly when she reached the door. Now she was in full sight, though the office was dark enough, and she knew it would be difficult to see her. Her hand fumbled for the deadbolts on the door.

"Look at this, Shari. They're all wearing similarly colored shirts."

"Yes, they are. . . ." Elizabet watched as the girl knelt by one of the dead bodies.

"Do you recognize him?" the man asked.

"No. But I recognize the color of that sweatshirt. He's a part of a gang, one that buys drugs from Nataniel. They're from the Inner City . . . I wonder why he's here, so far from home."