Bedlam Boyz(46)

He tried not to think about it as they ate pizza for dinner, watching the football game on the television. Luis tried to make a joke about a bad football play, but no one laughed. Everyone was tense, even Ramon.

They know that the T-Men are going to come after us, and maybe Shea's people, too. Did I do the right thing? he asked himself, glancing at the bruja seated across the room from him, watching the game.

The girl excused herself after the game ended, disappearing into the spare bedroom down the hall. Carlos caught Ramon watching her as she walked away, and smiled to himself. Now that was a good way to keep the bruja with them and happy, if only he could be certain that it wouldn't affect her magic. He needed to talk with his grandmother again, to find out more about whether letting Ramon sleep with the girl would hurt her magic.

He yawned and stretched. It was too early to be sleepy, not even 10 P.M. yet. He drank from his beer and yawned again.

Luis was already asleep, sitting on the couch with his arm around his wife. Ramon, too, looked like he was about to nod off. It had been a long day, true, but he knew he needed to tell one of the boys to stay awake, keep a watch for the T-Men. . . . The empty beer can slid from his fingers onto the floor as he yawned again. . . .



Kayla tried to concentrate on reading the book about the magical white horses, but it was impossible. I can't believe Carlos is doing this. It'll never end now, not until everyone's dead . . . oh God, I don't want that to happen, I don't want to see Ramon dead. . . .

She stared at the open page of the book until the words blurred. Angrily, she brushed the tears away from her eyes. <T>

It's not fair, it's not right. Maybe Carlos will change his mind, though I think there's a snowball's chance of that. But it's not too late. Hell, maybe I can convince Ramon to go over his head, call that Shari lady himself. Ramon understands, he knows we should do this. But he lets Carlos make the decisions.

She didn't know when her mind had changed so much, from wanting to get away from Ramon and the homeboys to wanting to make sure that nothing bad happened to them. I should get out of here while I still can, before it gets worse. Wait for the right opportunity, maybe later tonight, and slip out of here when everyone's asleep. . . .

Through the wall, she could hear Carlos and the other homeboys talking about something. Don't think they're going to call it a night anytime soon.

She yawned, covering her mouth with her hand. She didn't know why she was so tired, she'd slept late enough in the morning . . . it didn't make any sense, didn't . . .

Kayla rubbed her eyes and picked up the book again. Maybe she was still exhausted from everything that had happened, maybe this was her body's way of telling her to chill out and get some rest. Maybe . . . maybe . . .

The book slipped from her fingertips as she drifted off to sleep.



Sharanya stepped quietly into the house, past the sleeping figures in the living room. She paused in front of Carlos, deftly reaching into his shirt pocket to remove her business card. The card glowed slightly at her touch. No need to leave this behind, with its odd set of runes and glyphs disguised as a business logo. True, she might need to track down Carlos again, but better not to leave any clues behind. There was always the risk that someone else among the Tyrone Street Boys would have some magical talent and figure out how she had tracked them to this place.

She walked down the short hallway, following her magic sense to a closed door. She opened it silently. Inside, the young mage was asleep on the bed, a book fallen by her open hand.



Kayla dreamed of dancing. It was a warm moonlit night, and she was standing in an open meadow that was ringed with tiny mushrooms, watching the dancers. All those strange people with the pointed ears and delicate, inhuman faces, dressed in elegant flowing clothing, whirled and turned to the music. The women wore long gowns of bright colors, silver and blue and green and gold, and the men were in short jackets and odd-looking pants, laughing and speaking among themselves as they moved through the dance. Kayla could hear the melody but she couldn't see the musicians, the slow strings and soft flutes, the delicate sound of a harp, playing from somewhere unseen. So she watched the dancers, entranced, as the beautiful people moved in graceful patterns on the silver-edged grass.

Someone was calling to her, asking her to join them. She shook her head, terrified that she would ruin the beauty of the dance. She wasn't dressed for it, she didn't know how to dance . . . a silver-haired man smiled at her, and she saw that she was now dressed as they were, in a heavy gown of black velvet and pearls, swirling skirts that brushed against her bare feet.

Their hands reached to her, drawing her in. The silver-haired man bowed to her as he took her hand, leading her in the steps of the dance.