Page 17 of Stolen Magic
“Neither.” Her chin jutted out in that stubborn way it always did when she wanted to challenge me to argue with her. “He is a good man and will never do anything to hurt those he calls friends.”
“Yet, I’ve never heard of him until now.” It was just an observation, not a reprimand, and I waved my hand to usher her out of the room. “You’ll tell me more about him on the way. The longer we linger here, the bigger the chances are that, if we were followed, another attack will come.”
“We must stop at the store first,” Char reminded me, and she didn’t wait to be told twice to leave. Still barefoot, she was already out the door before she finished the sentence. “I just need a couple of things and we will be off. The guy lives in Glendale, so it’ll take an hour or more with traffic to get there.”
“Lead the way, friend.” I was more than happy to leave the motel room behind, even though I didn’t change out of the clothing that had white patches forming all over from the salty water of the ocean.
Hopefully the guy was as good as Char claimed.
Otherwise we were out of options.
Chapter Fourteen
It took almost two hours to reach Glendale since people were driving like their one mission in life was to stress me out to the point I wanted to stop the car and strangle them. Lucky for them, we stopped a passing Uber to take us part way before we switched to another in hopes to evade anyone that might be tailing us. Somewhere between Santa Monica and Glendale, I got a strong suspicion that Char was having way too much fun with the whole thing, and she was overdoing it. She even had her tote shoved in my lap over my small duffel bag, and I’d never seen her part from it outside the shop and the apartment. The way she kept glancing around, stuck close to the buildings we were passing between Ubers, and deepening her tone when giving an address was too James Bond-ish for my tastes.
“You can drop us off at the CVS parking lot,” she murmured to the poor middle-aged man who did a double take in the rearview mirror when he noticed her leaning way to close to his head between the seats.
I yanked her back with a fistful of fabric.
“We would appreciate it very much.” I gave the driver what I hoped was an apologetic smile, but the way he frowned told me I probably looked constipated.
My groan followed the squealing tires when the Uber fishtailed out of the parking lot around the pharmacy. I had no doubt he thought we were either on drugs—if he noticed the white patches of dried salt water on my clothing—or he thought we needed medication for mental illness—if he judged Char’s exaggerated spy mood. After the last couple of hours, I was ready to reach our destination with the same enthusiasm Char had when she took over our mission.
“Well, he wasn’t a talker.” My friend huffed, hitching her tote higher on her shoulder. “Aren’t you supposed to be a talker if you do that kind of a job? It should be in their form under the field that’s required.”
“I’m not sure he had time to answer any of your questions before you asked a new one, Char.” I couldn’t help the tilt of my lips when they stretched into a smile. “I swear you didn’t take a breath the full hour the poor guy was stuck with us.”
“Humph.” Her nose lifted in the air, and she side-eyed me. “I’m a chatty Cathy when I’m nervous. Sue me.”
That just brought home the gravity of our situation. Since I’d known her, I’d never seen Char talk so much. Lost in thought, I followed a step behind her as she led us up the street. She turned left when we reached a set of lights down Glendale Boulevard, and I stared absently at the small Italian delis, Armenian restaurants promising authentic food, and the many tobacco shops glowing bright with signs of different flavored vapes. When we reached a car wash, the blast of air from their machines yanked me out of my internal torment, and I looked around more alert.
“This is Burbank, Char. We left Glendale a block back, I think.” And like an omen from the universe, a large sign came into view with the name of a sushi restaurant in Japanese characters, with Burbank written under it in bright red. I stabbed my finger at it as if I needed to prove I was correct.
The burst of air from the car wash had me jerking as if something bit me.
I glared at the building.
“I know, it’s not far now.” With a fast glance up and down the street, she darted across it, jaywalking the six lanes.
I rushed after her, a horn blaring behind me.
“You trying to get us killed the old-fashioned way?” I panted as I jumped on the sidewalk with the agility of a pregnant rhino. My ankle wobbled, and I almost lost my balance.
“You need to work on your stamina, Allie.” She wasn’t even winded, while I sounded like a freight train behind her.
We passed a bus stop with an ad for a TV show flickering on the screen, and my stomach growled when my eyes landed on the fruit stalls in front of a convenience store next to it. I had no idea when I’d eaten last, and my body was not too shy to remind me. My feet had a mind of their own, and I was halfway to the store when Char snatched me by the arm and tugged me away from it.
“We will order something while we wait for Damian to trace the call.” My friend chuckled when I grumbled something about dying on an empty stomach. I was not kidding. It was eating itself ever since I noticed the delicious apples and peaches lining the stalls. “It’s up here.”
I followed the direction of her finger to a small house tucked between two rows of buildings. It looked unassuming, with a lawn that was a tiny patch of grass, a faded red roof, and freshly painted white walls on the outside. The one window visible from the street had a long wooden planter with a bunch of wilted flowers that were more brown than green. Char led me across the narrow path to the front door, and my feet shuffled uneasily when she knocked on it.
Silence met us.
Char rapped her knuckles two more times, each time harder than the last, and proceeded to mush the doorbell longer than was polite. It chirped and squealed until, at some point, it stuttered and died. No sound came from it the next time she jabbed her thumb on it.
“I think it’s safe to say he is not home.” My drawl was met with a stubborn flat line that used to be her mouth a moment before. “It’s known to happen, for humans to leave their habitat.” My attempt to lighten the mood didn’t have the desired effect. My friend Char was a tough audience.
My shoulders jerked to my ears when she swirled around and started pounding her fist on the door. “Damian, open the god damn door or I’ll break it.”
