Page 72 of Up in Smoke

“Few do, and I appreciate that. Do you mind if we return should we have questions?”

“I don’t mind at all. If you hear anything about Sandro, please let me know.”

“Of course. Try not to worry yourself too much. He is quite capable, and he is good at surviving in the Alley.”

While I believed that, I also understood what we faced, and that the music mages of the South and the man controlling them cared nothing for those in the way of their storms—and that magic could turn on its user at any time. To cover my concerns and growing anxiety, I replied, “Sandro can take care of himself.”

And if I didn’t hear from him by the end of the day, I would do everything in my power to bring him home alive.

Tuesday, June 30, 2043.

Tulsa, Oklahoma.

The Alley.

I should have waited,but my patience frayed, my fox’s anxiety grew with each passing hour, and if I stayed in the house alone for a minute longer, I would go mad from worry. As such, as soon as I’d scarfed down the remainder of the salsa and chips as breakfast, I grabbed Peace and headed to the surface, planning on scouring the entirety of Tulsa and the surrounding area for Sandro before heading to the west.

To my relief, all that remained of Sandro’s storm was a few tattered clouds. The cleanup efforts continued, and it took me less than five minutes to learn the storm had ended in the early morning hours, much to the relief of everyone.

As I was a scavenger, I dropped a hint I’d go see what had been turned up by the foul weather and ventured off, adopting a brisk walk until out of sight of Tulsa and any watchful eyes, where I hustled into a jog. If Sandro had even a scratch on him, he’d learn the importance of being careful. After I scolded him for worrying me, I’d drag him home, make him remove the listening bugs and check the present from Mansfield for anything questionable, and then take him to bed and hold him hostage for at least a few hours.

A few hours might calm my fox—maybe. A few hours might restore my sense of normality, which had undergone a severe beating without Sandro around. After my sense of normality was restored, I would spend at least ten minutes scolding the hot ass bounty hunter for ruining my general ability to handle long-term solitude.

I enjoyed having him around, even when he annoyed me.

Several miles from Shady Grove, I discovered fresh debris, likely from the ruins of the underground complex. My magic remained dormant, and to cover that I attempted to use my scrying abilities, I checked everything that might have value to a scavenger, just in case Mansfield had someone watching me. It cost me precious time, and I flattened my ears and cursed over the entirety of the situation.

Not far from where I’d left him, I found Sandro talking to four women, all of whom had seen better days, wearing worn clothes and covered head to toe in rock dust and filth. He was the only one who did any speaking, and his body language implied something had stirred his ire. I lashed my tail, put my hands on my hips, and glared at the man who’d created so much trouble for me.

“This is my wife,” Sandro said, gesturing to me without making eye contact. “I believe I have tested her patience to its limits, which isn’t surprising, all things considered. Before you kill me, Jade, I’m sorry I wasn’t able to get back sooner. It’s been busy.”

“It would have been better if I’d been here, also busy, rather than dealing with snakes in the house.” I continued to lash my tail, pretending I were some irritated cat rather than an excited vixen out for a good time. “I ran out of salsa, I had to share my dinner with a plague upon this Earth, there was a dire lack of decent company, and everyone keeps doing the equivalent of patting my head and telling me to wait patiently. I finally got annoyed and went scavenging.” I inhaled and did my best to cool my temper and settle my nerves. “Is this everybody?”

“Who survived, yes.”

I considered the women, and I doubted they’d make it too far before exhaustion, malnourishment, and stress caught up with them. “There should be some good, functional shelters nearby. We can frog hop them from shelter to shelter until they’re recovered enough to get out of the Alley.”

Sandro sighed. “You’re assuming they want to leave the Alley, Jade.”

“Well, do they?” I eyed them, wondering what the hell had gone on in the collapsed cavern system. “They’re not going to last long if they stay here.”

“Well, yes, but you shouldn’t have assumed.”

I twitched. “Sandro.”

He smirked, which made me realize the bastard hot ass bounty hunter teased me. I snarled curses at him, stormed over, and prodded his chest. “I’ve been worrying, and you decide to taunt me?”

“I can’t help it; you’re pretty when you’re pissed, and I haven’t even done anything truly worthy of your rage yet. Granted, by tomorrow, I would have legitimately earned trouble, as I wasn’t going to be able to head back to Asylum after learning their story. And anyway, I still had another day before you were supposed to get worried.”

Damn it. “I was worried about ten minutes after we split up,” I confessed.

“I can’t say I was all that worried, as you’re good at taking care of yourself. Usually. And the times you can’t take care of yourself, there’s a damned good reason you need help. But, since you happen to be here, I have an idea.”

I narrowed my eyes, plastering my ears back as far as they could go. “What idea?”

“I want you to pretend you haven’t found me while I escort these ladies around Tulsa and in the direction of the South. They’re future scryers, one and all, so they have a good chance of being able to dodge storms once they’re out of the area and have had some time to rest and recover. I want them to meet Ryleigh. What they know could be important, and after hearing what they’ve told me, I can’t justify us going all the way back to New Orleans. The problem is supplies.”

Right. They wouldn’t have a chance in hell of scavenging enough to survive all the way to the South without help. “I can pretend I’m looking for you and bring a pack with lunch but have some supplies from the house inside. That won’t be a problem, especially if I know where you’re going. But I told Mansfield you were working on a complicated poem for your project, and that you were more creative outside of the city, bouncing around and wandering like you like to do.”