Bedlam Boyz(43)

"Fernando?"

"He's my brother," Roberta said simply. "Everyone has been bringing gifts for you," she added, a little shyly.

There was a pile of stuff on the table next to the couch. Kayla sat down to look at it: some chocolate and other candy, some cassette tapes, and a tall stack of paperback books.

Kayla picked up the book on the top of the stack, a fantasy novel with a horse on the cover, looking at it with interest. "Thanks." She plunked herself down on the couch, glancing up occasionally as Carlos, Ramon, and Roberta discussed something in Spanish, and dove into the book.

The book was great fun, a story about a girl who ran away from home with the help of a magical white horse. Kayla smiled at that, wishing there had been a magical white horse to help her get away from the foster home. No, she and Billy and Liane had taken the RTD bus. A hell of a lot less romantic, and not nearly as much fun.

She didn't realize how caught up she was in the story until the next time she looked up, when she saw that she was alone in the room. No, there was someone seated by the door, one of the homeboys she didn't know or recognize. He was sitting quietly, just watching her.

She looked out the window, hearing the sound of someone banging a hammer against something metal. There was Fernando, half-invisible under the hood of his car, pounding on something inside the engine. He must be doing fine, she thought. I guess I did a better job on fixing his busted chest than I thought.

Roberta was talking with Fernando as he worked, carrying baby Juanita on her hip. Ramon was a few feet away, playing catch with some of the younger kids.

"Can I go downstairs?" she asked the man.

He said something in Spanish, smiling at her.

"Uh . . . go downstairs?" She pointed out the open window. "Can I?" She looked down again and thought her heart was going to stop: she saw the white Mercedes with the trashed front fender, followed closely by several other cars, gliding down the street toward the apartment building.

"RAMON!" she yelled at the top of her voice. He looked up, then turned in the direction she was pointing. A moment later he shouted something in Spanish and everyone, even the young children, all scattered for cover.

"Come on!" She ran for the door, not caring whether the homeboy understood or followed. Kayla vaulted down the three flights of stairs, hearing the clatter of her guard's footsteps behind her. She was out of the apartment building a moment later, looking around the street to get her bearings.

The Mercedes and the rest of the convoy had parked across the street, and a woman was getting out of the back seat of the white Mercedes. Kayla blinked once, uncertain what she was seeing, then stared.

This woman was beautiful, dressed like a model from a magazine, dark-haired and with vivid blue eyes. No . . . inhumanly beautiful, that's what she was—no real person could look like that. And she was bright with magic, Kayla realized, brighter than anyone she'd ever seen, practically glowing around the edges with power. She couldn't be a real person, not and look like that. . . .

But no real person had ears like this lady. Pointed ears, right out of Star Trek or one of her nightmares. . . .

And no real person had eyes like hers, either, blue as gemstones and slitted like a cat's.

The woman saw Kayla staring at her, and smiled.

:Do you see me for what I am, girl?: The cool feminine voice said within Kayla's mind. :That's very good, because I can see you, as well. . . . :





Chapter Nine


Kayla looked around quickly for somewhere to run, but the only obvious direction was back up the stairs, which wouldn't get her very far.

:Don't run, girl. I won't hurt you.: The voice spoke quietly in her mind. :Just stand still, be calm. Let me look at you.: The woman with the pointed ears walked closer to her, looking at her curiously.

"You're younger than I would've expected," the woman said aloud. "How old are you, girl . . . seventeen? Eighteen?"

"Fifteen," Kayla tried to say, but her voice wasn't working quite right. For the first time in her life, she understood what the expression about someone's "throat being tight with fear" really meant—she couldn't quite manage to say the word out loud.

"Fifteen," the woman repeated thoughtfully, as though Kayla had spoken. "That's very young, for one of your kind. I begin to see Nataniel's reasoning at last." She smiled. "My name is Shari, girl. I've traveled a long way to meet you."

Behind Shari, she could see the T-Men getting out of their cars. Some already had handguns ready, and one was carrying what looked like a submachine gun. Kayla swallowed awkwardly.

"We're not here for a fight," Shari said loudly. "I need to talk with Carlos Hernandez. Where is he?"