The man extended a graceful hand to help the girl back to her feet. "A street gang war?"
A street gang? That doesn't make any sense. Why would Kayla be involved with a street gang? Unless it's something the girl didn't tell me before, that she's a gangbanger. . . .
"Quite possibly. That's something I can find out, easily enough. That'll be our next stop, I think . . . I'd like to find out who these children are, and why our little mage is involved with a street gang." Her head cocked suddenly. "Perenor, did you hear something?"
Elizabet froze next to the door, not daring to move. I'm not here, she thought, imagining herself as invisible, part of the wall. I'm not here, I'm not here . . .
"Is there someone else in here?" the man asked. "I thought I heard something. . . ."
They know I'm here!
Elizabet took a deep breath, and another, and then flung the door open and leaped through.
There was a noise behind her, like a sudden thunderstorm, and the crackle of electricity. Elizabet slammed the warehouse door shut behind her, letting go of the doorknob an instant before it melted into slag. There was the sound of a muffled curse a moment later, and the door rattled but didn't open. "The other door!" she heard the man's voice say, but she was already running for her car.
She fumbled with the keys, wasting a precious second or two to unlock the door, then slid into the driver's seat and jammed the key into the ignition. She accelerated away from the warehouse, glancing back in the mirror to see the two figures emerging from the far side of the building, staring after her as she drove away. Two minutes later, driving down Oxnard Street toward the 101 Freeway, she finally remembered to breathe again.
Elves who were looking for Kayla. Dead boys from a street gang. What in the hell is that girl involved in?
She had been afraid that someone other than herself was looking for Kayla.
Now she knew.
Chapter Eight
Kayla sat silently in the back seat as Carlos drove the car through the city. They weren't going back to Roberta's apartment—this was a different destination, somewhere further north. Ramon, still unconscious, lay close to her on the back seat. She held his hand, glancing out at the lights of the city as they drove past.
Manuel, the guy with the wounded shoulder, was in the front seat next to Carlos. Even from a few feet away, Kayla could tell that it hurt a great deal, though the bleeding had stopped beneath the shirt he'd wadded up against the wound, under his jacket. Some tiny part of her wanted to touch him and heal that pain, but she held herself back from it. Not now, she thought. And not ever again, if I can manage that. The image of the kid dying in front of her wouldn't leave her thoughts, burned into her mind. I'm never doing anything for Carlos or his homeboys again, ever.
Except maybe Ramon. Her hand brushed his curly hair back from his forehead. She thought he looked a little better now, less pale. It was hard to tell in the dim glow from the streetlights.
Carlos parked the car in front of an old house on a quiet street. "I'll be back in a minute for Ramon," he said to Kayla. He got out and walked to the passenger side of the car, helping the other guy out of the car.
Kayla thought about taking off at a run while Carlos walked the other guy to the door of the house. Then she thought about the pistol in Carlos' belt—would he hesitate to shoot her? Maybe, maybe not.
Carlos returned a minute later to sling Ramon over his shoulder and carry him out like a sack of potatoes. Kayla followed uncertainly.
Inside the house, a heavyset middle-aged woman was crying and talking angrily in Spanish as she looked under the improvised bandage on the guy's shoulder. She wailed even louder as Carlos set Ramon down on the couch. He turned back to Kayla. "You can do your magic on him now, bruja."
"No," Kayla said, hoping her voice didn't sound as scared as she was. "I won't."
He blinked, as if he thought he hadn't heard her correctly. "What?"
"I said, I'm not going to heal him."
He nodded. "You must still be tired from everything you did earlier. That's all right, you can heal him later."
"I'm not going to heal him at all."
"You'll heal him, girl!"
"No, I won't!"
Carlos raised his hand, and Kayla was certain he was going to hit her again. "Carlos," Ramon called weakly from the couch. "Carlos, how did we get here?"
Carlos let his hand fall as he smiled at Ramon, a look of caring and concern replacing the anger on his face. "You're all right, Ramie?"
"I think so, but everything still hurts," Ramon said ruefully, and glanced at Kayla. "I remember that the bruja was doing a healing, and I thought something was wrong so I went to her, and then everything went black. I'm all right, Mama," he said to the woman fussing over him in Spanish. "Manuel's the one who was hurt, not me."