Crowbones

CHAPTER 71

Earthday, Novembros 4

Did she track by scent or some special sense? He didn’t know, but he followed her down the lane that ran between the backs of business buildings with their parking lots on one side and resident garages on the other. He followed her, except . . .

It was daylight, and daylight meant he was easily seen. He didn’t like being seen. He didn’t like seeing how others reacted to what he was now. So much easier to hide in the dark.

But she had followed the tracks of an enemy to this place, so he was here too.

She studied the back of a building. A wide strip of grass separated the parking lot of that building from its neighboring lot. The next lot was behind a chest-high wooden fence.

she said. Her hand brushed against his arm, the merest touch.

She moved away, not toward the building with the foulness but toward the lot that had the wooden fence.

He lost sight of her. His brain . . . blinked . . . and for a moment he panicked, not sure where he was—or why.

Then he heard quiet footsteps, saw men coming up the lane. Saw them step into the parking lot behind the building with the wrongness.

And he recognized one of them. Remembered one of them.

It was daylight. He would be seen, maybe captured. And yet . . .

Had to give a warning. Because he remembered one of them, he had to give a warning.