Flora's Fury: How a Girl of Spirit and a Red Dog Confound Their Friends, Astound Their Enemies, and Learn the Impo (29 page)

“Goodbye, madama,” I said, making a Courtesy. “And thank you for your kindness.”

“One person’s kindness is another person’s cruelty,” Cutaway answered.

Udo was still asleep when I went in to see him. The left side of his face was muffled in a large white bandage that extended up to his hairline. When I picked up his hand, it was limp but warm. I kissed his forehead, just above the bandage. When I touched his hair, my fingers brushed something cold and sticky: a severed tentacle. I picked it up, but the snarky voice did not chime in my head. The Jack Boots sat at the foot of Udo’s bed; the snake heads were lifeless, their eyes dull. Perhaps they had finally met their match.

The minions escorted me to my room and told me to stay there until the storm lifted; then they’d put me on the first boat to the mainland. The remnants of the room-service breakfast were still on the table. I took a stale muffin from the basket and sat on the bed, chewing and listening to the wind thump and howl. The windows had been shuttered, so the room was dark. It fit my mood.

Pig was gone; Octohands was gone. Hardhands was already dead, so he could hardly be killed again, but even a ghost can be destroyed, its Anima shredded, dissipated. Udo
had
almost been killed. And all because I was a moronic, snapperheaded idiot. I had been so prideful, so sure that I could make a difference, that I alone could save Califa by finding Tiny Doom. I had thought that Buck was powerless and cast-down, too weak to lift a hand against the Birdies, and here it turned out she was busy with a plan much better than mine. A plan she hadn’t trusted me to share—and with good reason. If I’d known before, Goddess knows what I would have done to mess everything up.
Everyone has a talent,
Nini Mo said, and mine was clearly fiking things up bigtime. Now Espejo was heading directly toward Tiny Doom, and here I was, trapped on Barbacoa, unable to do a thing to warn her. I got up to get another muffin and noticed Tharyn’s satchel laying on the bed. A new horror seized me.

Tharyn! Where was Tharyn? When Espejo had left me alone in his room—when he had turned to a jaguar—had he gone back to get Tharyn? Cutaway had spoken as though Tharyn was still alive, but maybe she didn’t know. Maybe Tharyn was lying dead right now in some alley, shredded, clawed, rain falling on his empty face, his blank eyes. Maybe he was lying wounded in some ravine, the rain washing the blood out of his veins—these thoughts propelled me toward the door, which, when I opened it, was blocked by a minion.

“Go inside,” she said.

“Tharyn Wraathmyr! Have you seen him?”

“Go inside.”

“I have to look for him!”

“Inside,” said the minion, and shut the door on me. When I tried the door again, it was locked. I pounded and shouted to no avail. The minion remained immovable and so did the door. I ran to the window; the rain was sheeting down, thunderously, an occasional flash of pink breaking through the darkness. At four floors up, it was too high to climb down, anyway.

I couldn’t just do nothing, but there was nothing I could do. So I paced, and listened to the thunder and the rain, and chewed on my fingers, and cursed myself for being such an idiot as to drag everyone into this to begin with, and cried a bit at my own stupidity, and ate another muffin, and wished with all my heart I was back in Califa, sitting behind my desk, copying some ordnance return, blissfully ignorant, or changing Pow’s diaper, anything but in this mess I was in now, getting everyone I cared about killed. Sometimes waves of terror would rush over me as I remembered the feeling of Espejo’s serpent slithering through my brain, and then I would sit down on the bed and scream into my pillow until my jaw ached and my throat was raw. I was trapped, it was too late, it was over—

The door opened and there was Tharyn.

I jumped on him, sobbing hysterically He caught me, lifting me up, making soothing noises, and said, “Hush. It’s all right. It’s all right.”

“I thought you were dead! That he got you, like he almost got Udo!” I sobbed. He was soaking wet and he smelled of salt, but even his soggy embrace felt solid. Flynn jumped and bobbed around our legs, pawing at Tharyn. He pushed Flynn down gently, then carried me over to the settee.

“Stop crying, honey,” he said soothingly.

“He almost got Udo! And he did get Pig and Octohands,” I sniveled.

“Well, he didn’t get me. Whoever he is. Maybe you should tell me what happened,” Tharyn suggested.

I nodded and gulped, then told him.

When I was done, Tharyn said, “What an idiot I was! When we were on the road, I smelled cat but I didn’t think anything of it. I should have been more on guard. I should have been more careful. But I was—well—I was distracted.”

“Not as distracted as I was,” I said bitterly

He cursed again. “Fike it all! I left the Envoy’s and needed a bit of a breather, so I went for a run...”

That explained the twigs in his hair. I blew my nose again on the now very soggy hankie. “It’s just as well, Tharyn. He might have killed you. He almost killed Udo.”

“He could have tried,” Tharyn said. “I think I could have handled him. I am not a popinjay.”

“Udo’s not a popinjay, either! Well, he is, but he had help—pretty good help, too.”

“Udo. I thought he dumped you,” Tharyn said. “And you were very angry at him.”

“He did. I mean, he kinda did. It was complicated.”

“Yet you are upset that he was almost killed.”

“We’ve been friends for years. Of course I am upset, and it was all my fault, too. But listen, Tharyn, Espejo knows about my mother, my real mother. He knows where she is. He’s gone after her. But I’m stuck on this fiking island until the storm clears. He’s got a big head start. He’ll get there before me, and kill her. And it will be all my fault. I have to go after him. As quickly as possible. I have to get there first, warn her. Cutaway told me that express agents have a way to travel very quickly What did she mean?”

“She said that, did she?” Tharyn said. He said something else in a language I didn’t know. Kulani, perhaps, or maybe Varanger. It sounded like a curse.

“What did she mean?” I repeated. “I have to catch up with Espejo. I can’t fly nor can I translocate. It’s way too far, and I’m not that good of a magician. I have to get there first and warn her! If you know a way to do it, a way I can beat Espejo, tell me, for Choronzon’s sake, tell me!”

He didn’t answer, just rocked back and forth, chewing his lip. Finally when I was about to scream with impatience, he said, “I do know another way. But it’s risky Very risky.”

“I don’t care. I have to try. You have to try You owe me three times. I have saved your life. And you owe me.”

“I know it.” Tharyn sighed. “By the Goddess, I know it.”

H
AMISHA, THE BELL GIRL
, promised she would take care of Flynn and then, when the storm was over, take him to the Pacifica Express office and get him passage back to Califa. I hated to leave him, but Tharyn said he could not go with us. So I kissed Flynn and left him curled up on the bed, Hamisha scratching his tum and feeding him chicken. He’d be safer at home, anyway.

I expected Cutaway’s minions to stop me from leaving, but the guard outside our door was gone. The mess in the lobby was mostly cleaned up. Two minions were nailing boards over the broken windows, and the soggy carpet had been rolled up and carted away, revealing a sodden wood floor. As soon as we got out from under the hotel awning, the wind hit us, almost knocking me off my feet. Tharyn grabbed me and held on. Heads down, we fought our way across the drive and down the street. The rain felt as sharp as nails.

“Are you sure we can’t do this inside?” I shouted.

“We need a crossroad! Come on. It’s not far!”

We were the only ones out. The water on the street was ankle deep—or at least ankle deep on Tharyn. On me, it was more like knee-deep, a torrential river in which I struggled to stay upright. Above, the sky was a roiling leaden mess. A queer twilight had descended, a greenish gray light that made the town look underwater.

By the time we made it to the intersection, we were drenched. The cab shelter was small, but it did provide some protection. Tharyn put his satchel down on the bench and took a piece of paper out of his jacket. The wind had torn his hair from its queue, snarled it into a great tangle of curls, which made him look even more bearish than usual. I wanted to lay my head on his chest and close my eyes. Instead, I said, “I warn you, I won’t get into a box. I’ve had enough of boxes for an eternity”

“No, nothing like that,” Tharyn said. “Before we do this, I have to tell you, Nini, in all fairness, that I’ve only made an overnight delivery once, and it wasn’t very a big package. You are a lot bigger. This is going to be very expensive.”

“I don’t care how expensive it is. The Bilskinir estate is fabulously rich. I can afford it. Though I’ll have to write a postdated check—”

“The cost isn’t in money. That would be too easy If it were only money, everyone would use this method.”

“What else can you pay with?”

“Each courier has their price.”

“That other overnight. What did its sender pay?”

“A year off his life.”

I thought Tharyn was joking, but he wasn’t smiling. “Are you serious?”

“Ayah. Are you willing to pay such a price?”

A year off my life. That was pretty steep. But if Espejo got Tiny Doom and then came back for me, I wouldn’t have much life left, anyway. As if to underscore that point, a bolt of lightning cracked overhead and the walls of the shelter rattled.

“Ayah, ayah. I am willing. Let’s get on with it. “

I took the address label he offered me. On it was written:
Poste restante, Fort Sandy, Arivaipa Territory.

“What does 'poste restante’ mean?” I asked.

“It means there’s no actual address. The package goes to general delivery.”

“Am I going to just show up at the post office in Fort Sandy?” I asked, horrified. If I materialized in the middle of the Fort Sandy post office, how in the fike would I explain that?

“No, of course not. This is just to get the order going. We’ll discuss the actual delivery address with the courier. Actually, I don’t think Fort Sandy even has a post office. It’s the back end of beyond, Nini.”

Tharyn took his jacket off and rolled it up. He’d never reclaimed the shirt he’d wrapped around Flynn and apparently he didn’t have another. In the greenish-gray underwater light, the tattoos on his chest were inky black and seemed to undulate and waver.

Move forward,
said Nini Mo,
and don’t look back—even if you can hear the snapping of the wolves on your tail.

I took Tharyn’s outstretched hand and we stepped out into the storm. The driving rain stung my face like needles; I bent my head and tried to stay in the shelter of Tharyn’s back, allowing him to pull me to the center of the intersection. It was slow going in the wind, but Tharyn was very strong, and eventually we made it. I wrapped my arms around him, buried my face in his chest, feeling the pound of rain on my back, his skin wet, slick, and warm beneath my cheek.

I couldn’t hear his Invocation over the roar of the wind, the thunder of the rain, but I could hear it vibrating through his flesh. The hum started off low and slowly gained intensity until my tonsils quivered, my blood vibrated, my bones hummed in unison, and our voices blended and became one.

Distantly, I heard a howl and looked down to see a familiar red dog squirming between our legs: Flynn had somehow escaped the hotel and now added his voice to ours. The wind joined in, merging into one infinitely long note. I no longer felt the rain on my back, the cold whipping into my neck. No longer felt Tharyn pressed against me, the weight of my own body My skull was ringing, until the noise was too big for bone to contain and I was sure that my head would split from the pressure, and then—

“All right! All right! Stop that caterwauling! I hear you! I hear you! Be quiet!”

The shout cut through like a hot knife in ice cream. The rain was gone, the wind gone. We stood in absolute silence. I raised my head and saw Tharyn looking over his shoulder, his face full of astonishment and dismay.

“Fike,” he said. “Are you the courier?”

“None other,” said Cutaway Hargity. She wore a crimson cocktail dress and held a champagne glass. She looked very irritated. The storm was gone. The sky above us was blue and as flat as paint, and the buildings looked almost one-dimensional, like stage scenery We were Elsewhere.

“How can you be the courier?” I asked. Then I said to Tharyn, “I thought you told me that the courier was a dæmon.”

“I am a dæmon. I am the Governor of Barbacoa, the denizen of this island,” Cutaway said. “I have the contract for the Pacifica Mail and Freight. And I run various other business concerns on the side. You have a delivery for me?”

“I do, madama,” Tharyn said. “A rush job. Very urgent.”

“Where’s the package?”

“Me. I am the package,” I answered, and from the smile that curved across Cutaway’s face, I had the feeling that she had known already After all, hadn’t she pointed me here to begin with? Why? I also had the feeling that I wouldn’t like the answer.

“Hmmm,” she said. “This is quite unusual. I have never transported a package so large before. Have you, Sieur Wraathmyr?”

“No, madama. But the circumstances are unusual.”

“Maybe so. How many express packages have you sent?”

Tharyn glanced at me somewhat sheepishly before answering. “Only one, madama.”

“Somehow that doesn’t surprise me a bit. I know you know that transporting living creatures is explicitly forbidden. Surely you are familiar with the case of Tomas Bandicoot.”

“I am,” Tharyn said uncomfortably. “But that courier was new and inexperienced. Surely you, Madama Cutaway, would have no such problems.”

“You do me great honor in saying so, but I am not so sure.”

“What happened to Tomas Bandicoot? Who was Tomas Bandicoot?” I asked.

Tharyn answered, “He was an idiot who tried to have himself sent express from Porkopolis to Bexar on a dare. So he and some of his drunken pals stuffed him in a box and sent him off. The courier didn’t know what was in the box; of course, the bill of lading said it was bricks or something. Anyway, the box got lost in transit.”