“Can't we take it home? It is so cute. I want to keep it!” Leesha said.
“Well. If you want. But these guys sleep during the day and eat mice, so you'd have to catch them.”
Leesha shuddered. “Oh. So now you're the great hunter?”
“Pretty much.” He knelt, scraping together a snowball. “I guess bow-hunting season is over. But snowball season is just beginning.” He stood and came toward her, tossing the snowball in the air and catching it, eyeing her suggestively.
“Oh, no. Stay away from me!”
Jason lobbed the snowball. Leesha dodged behind a tree and the missile exploded against the bark. She knelt and patted together a snowball of her own, but when she stood up, Jason had disappeared.
“No fair! You are not allowed to go unnoticeable.”
“No rules,” Jason said from right behind her, stuffing a handful of snow down her back. She whipped around and he stole a kiss, then leapt back out of reach.
“No rules, you say? You'll be sorry.” The fight began in earnest, then. Although Leesha had terrible aim, she found she could explode Jason's missiles with wizardry before they hit their mark, which evened things up a bit.
By the time they called a truce, they'd been racing through the woods for an hour, Leesha was actually sweating, and it was getting dark. They walked back to the park pavilion hand in hand. Leesha kindled a fire on the hearth to dry out their wet things, and Jason heated up some cider. They sat side by side on the hearth, their backs roasting, their fronts freezing.
Leesha was amazed at how much she'd enjoyed playing in the snow. Images came back to her from when she was little. She and Aunt Milli building snowmen in the yard. Cardinals and chickadees circling the bird feeder, coasting down to eat out of her hand. Consulting Aunt Milli's field guide to identify the rare birds.
“Come summer, we can move out here,” Jason suggested, breaking into her reverie. “You know, sleep in hammocks in the trees, live off the land.”
“You're totally insane, you know that?” she said, thinking she must be a little crazy herself.
“We can be urban guerrillas. Hold people for ransom. Trap squirrels and pigeons and steal picnic baskets.”
“Listen, it takes a lot more than that to keep me comfortable,” Leesha said. “Like hot showers and manicures.”
Their conversations were often like this. They flirted, dancing around the hard issues that lay between them. But now Jason turned serious. He picked up her hand and examined it like he could read her fortune in it.
“It would be cool … if we could just … be together,” he said. “You know, without having to worry about all this…political crap.”
“We can be,” Leesha said, forcing a lightness she didn't feel. “Who cares about politics? Let's run away. Where do you want to go?”
But the mood was broken. Jason set his cup of cider down and rose. “I'd better go. It's getting late.”
She gripped his hand. “Stay a while?”
He shook his head. “Hunters need their sleep.” He leaned down and kissed her. “See you.”
Leesha followed Jason onto the porch and watched until his slender form dissolved into the trees of Perry Park. Unsettled, off-balance, she went back inside the pavilion, sat down next to the fire on the stone hearth, and wrapped herself in a comforter that stank of woodsmoke. She'd wait ten more minutes before she started walking back to town herself.
Who knew there were so many back-alley places in a small town—like the snack bar at the bowling alley and the study carrels at the public library and the beach in the middle of winter. Who knew she'd be willing to spend time in any of them? At first, she'd been focused on worming her way into Jason's confidence. But then one-on-one, they could be themselves. And, now …
It seemed like everybody she knew was either a hero like Jack Swift (not many) or a snake like Warren Barber (many). Jack was so virtuous he made her feel … contaminated. Jason was in between—wicked enough to be interesting, and yet … he believed in things. He lived by a personal code of honor. Not that she'd ever figure it out. Finally, Jason had a crooked, self-deprecating, sardonic way of looking at the world that made her laugh.
She could use a few laughs these days.
Poking at the fire with a stick, she thought, You're not falling for this guy, are you?
Leesha looked up, startled, when she heard a noise outside. She hoped it wasn't some kind of animal. They'd put up wards to keep snoops away, but whether they worked on animals, she just didn't know.
The door banged open and someone said, “Well, well. I don't believe it. A babe in the woods.”
It was Warren Barber.
She was moving before he finished, and so was he. She tried to slam him with an immobilization charm, which, of course, didn't work, and he flung out a few attack charms himself. Those went nowhere. While he was processing that, she tried to circle round him and get out the door, but he blocked her path and tackled her, slamming her to the floor. He pinned her to the flagstones with his forearm, his face inches from hers. She found herself looking into his iced-over blue eyes, framed in bizarre white lashes.
“So, what's up, Leesha?” he asked. “You never call, you never answer your phone. I'm feeling just a bit … abandoned, know what I mean?”
“Get off of me, you perverted…pervert!” She shoved fruitlessly at his hands.
He brushed back her hair and touched the band around her neck. “And when I tried to apply a little discipline, nothing happened.”
“I disabled the tore,” Leesha lied breathlessly. “You might as well take it off.”
“Did you now? And did you also disable my Weirstone, because I'm noticing some of my favorite charms don't work.”
“I can't help it if you have a performance problem,” she replied. “Can't you get something for that over the Internet?”
So, okay, that was a mistake.
The pale eyes narrowed to slits. He sat up and hit her, hard, in the face with his closed fist. Tears came to her eyes and blood poured from her nose. It felt like every bone in her face was broken.
You're going to pay for that, she thought. I just don't know how yet.
Barber examined his fist. “What do you know? This still works.” He looked down at her, his face framed in shoulder-length, translucent hair. “I've heard that attack charms aren't allowed here in Trinity, but I never really believed they could make it stick. But now I'm thinking maybe the collar doesn't work so well in the sanctuary, either, know what I mean? And I'm feeling like you're getting kind of blasé about our agreement. That so?”
Agreement? Right. Leesha was drowning in blood. She blew her nose, spraying droplets all over Barber's shirt. “I told you. It's not easy. Everybody's always watching, and after what happened before, they don't really trust me.”
“My patience is running out. I have the feeling you're not trying hard enough. You need to get Jason Haley out of the sanctuary and to someplace I can question him. You need to get me the Dragonheart. How hard can it be?”
Leesha bit back a response. There was enough damage to repair as it was.
“If you don't deliver, I'll tell your Dragon friends who you've been working for all this time. They'll kick you out on your butt, and then…” He circled her neck with his hands and applied pressure until she was suffocating, prying at his hands, squirming helplessly.
Finally, he let go, and she sucked in air desperately, her heart pounding.
Barber smiled. “I'll be around, even if they don't kick you out.” He touched the collar. “I know where you are, every minute. Won't be hard to grab you in some back alley.” His grin widened. “I'll stuff you in my car trunk and suddenly, you're way out of town.”
“Wh—where are you staying, in case I need to find you?” she asked, wondering how he could possibly move around town without being spotted.
“Never mind where I'm staying.” He stood, wiping his bloody hands on his jeans. “Someone set a nasty magical trap at my old place. I'm wondering how they knew where I lived. That better not happen again.”
Damn, she thought. D'Orsay missed. He'd seemed so capable when they'd met at Raven's Ghyll.
Barber sat down on the bench of the picnic table, watching her as if she were the subject of some kind of violence experiment. “By the way, where's Madison Moss gone off to?”
That question took her totally by surprise. “M-Madison Moss? How should I know?”
“You're supposed to be the inside person, right?”
“You said to keep track of the gifted. She's not.” Leesha paused. “Why do you care about her?”
“You weren't at Second Sister. When Leicester fired at McCauley, Madison Moss took the hit for him. Leicester went down, and all the alumni went with him. That's the kind of girlfriend to have.” He looked at Leesha and raised a pale eyebrow like she should be taking notes. “Anyway, I paid her a visit, and her room's all emptied out.”
“You paid her a visit?” Leesha shivered at the thought of Barber skulking around town. “Well, I heard she's gone, that she left town.”
“Any idea where she went?”
'I have no clue. Maybe she and McCauley broke up. All I can tell you is, these Smallsville girls are ecstatic. They think they'll have a chance for a change."
Warren stood again. “Well, Leesha, as a spy, you've been totally useless. It's your job to make me happy. You have my number. You have three days to deliver Haley and the Dragonheart. Let me hear from you.”
And then he was gone, and Leesha could hear nothing save her labored breathing and the wild beating of her heart.
Chapter Thirteen Up Mountain
It was that time of day when the world holds its breath, awaiting the return of the light. To the east, beyond the mountains, it was already morning. The edge of the escarpment was iced with brilliance as the sun prepared to break overtop. Mist hung in the valley, like sheep's wool caught between the peaks. Each clump of grass, fern, and shrub was layered in ice, and Madison was wet to her knees before she'd crossed the home yard.