“Hey!” She squinted and turned her face away as Niteesh shone the flashlight directly in her face.
“Sorry.”
He tilted it up, then gave her a grin. He’d managed to pretzel his wiry little body around to face her.
“Nice rescue, huh?” he asked.
“Ask me again once we’re out. Aran, you all right back there?”
He grunted. The vent creaked with the sound of buckling metal, and he swore.
“Aran?” She hated not being able to see what he was doing.
“Yeah. Just… a sec.”
She laid her head down, the vent cold against her cheek. Sweet air filled her lungs.
“Nit—how’d you know to come find us?”
“The Terabins were acting sorely suspicious this morning, so I followed them. They were collecting stuff—a big trashcan from out back of the hotel. Armfuls of towels. When I saw the can of gas, I knew it was bad.”
“Why didn’t you tell Vonda?”
“I did—but not soon enough. The twins had already set the fire and locked you in. Firefighters hadn’t come yet, so I figured it was up to me to get you out.”
“Doesn’t the hotel have a door override?”
He scowled. “The Terribles jammed it. C’mon, Spark, you know how simple most of the tech is in these places. Easy to hack.”
Something about his words pinged her memory. She frowned, trying to chase it down, but the thought was gone.
“Thanks for coming to get us.”
“Oh, sure. Anyway, Vonda’s waiting at the end of this vent. If we can get there.” Niteesh pointed his flashlight back at Aran. “Coming?”
“Okay.” Aran sounded exhausted.
The metal screeched again, and he groaned in counterpoint. Then she heard him scramble up behind her, his breaths loud in the enclosed space.
“Go,” he said, something ragged in his tone.
Niteesh turned, nimble as a ferret, and led the way. Ahead of them, she could see a square of light, coming closer. Closer.
Niteesh slid out, and then Spark wriggled free, falling into the waiting hands of the med techs.
“One more,” Niteesh said. “Move back.”
A moment later Aran tumbled onto the beige carpet of the hall. Spark sucked in her breath when she saw the fresh blood coating his naked back, then she bent over, coughing. Her lungs felt like they’d been scraped with sandpaper.
The closest med tech whipped off Spark’s makeshift mask and stuck an oxygen supplier to her face.
“Easy there,” the med said. “Slow, even breaths. There you go.”
She wasn’t the type to faint, but the blurriness at the edges of her vision spread, until the whole scene looked like one of those old-fashioned paintings made of nothing but smears of color. Someplace warm and full of light, with plenty of air, and no blood. Sighing, she tipped forward into that dream.
Nine by Night: A Multi-Author Urban Fantasy Bundle of Kickass Heroines, Adventure, Magic
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Spark rang the doorbell of the basic, middle-class house. Rain spattered the pavement and pattered softly on the porch roof. She glanced over her shoulder at the security guy behind her.
“Burt, I asked you to wait at the car.”
“Just doing my job,” he said, calm in the face of her irritation.
She turned her attention back to the door, willing someone to answer. A moment later it opened, and a sweet-faced woman blinked at her.
“Can I help you?” the woman asked. Clearly she didn’t recognize who Spark was.
“Mrs. Chowney?” When the woman nodded confirmation, Spark continued. “Is your son, Bix, at home?”
Mrs. Chowney’s eyes widened slightly. “Is he in some kind of trouble?”
“Not at all, ma’am,” Burt said. “He’s the lucky winner of an at-home visit from Spark Jaxley. Part of last month’s gaming convention package.”
“Oh!” She looked more closely at Spark. “You’re the girl who plays those sim games. Please, come in, sit down.”
Mrs. Chowney settled them in a beige living room with a surprisingly colorful carpet, then hurried off to fetch her son.
A minute later he hurried into the room, as gangly as Spark recalled from her glimpse of him at the VirtuMax party.
“No way!” He halted, staring at Spark. “I thought somebody was playing a joke on me. Are you really Spark Jaxley? Your hair’s a lot shorter.”
“It’s a new look.” She stood. “Sorry to bother you like this, but I’m trying to find someone. Your friend, Aran.”
Burt had his home address, but when he’d called, Aran’s family said he’d officially moved out two weeks earlier.