“Rockefeller Center,” Torrent said. “A bunch of humans found him. He was under the tree.”
“Under the tree like the baby Jesus,” I growled and traced. Yeah, it was stupid to leave like that, but I was furious. And everyone knew where I was going.
I came out of the Aether in a crowd. It was a damn miracle I didn't trace into someone. Police officers were holding peopleback; yellow crime tape in place around the massive Christmas tree on its perch above the ice rink at Rockefeller Center. I looked up the branches—unlit since it was still afternoon there as well—and set my stare on the star that topped the tree. It was a simple one this year—gold with five points.
“Pardon us,” someone said.
I looked over my shoulder to see Azrael there in his Faerie God guise. People cried out in shock and excitement, many drawing out of his way but many more stroking Azrael's arms as if he were, well, a god. Which he was. So, yeah, fair enough. The police officers straightened, and one of them came forward to meet Az halfway, but Azrael veered to collect me along the way.
“Don't do that again,” Azrael hissed under his breath as he took my arm. “Not in the midst of this.”
“Sorry,” I muttered and went with him to meet the officer.
“Uh, hello, Sir,” the policeman said. “I'm Captain Chen.”
“Nice to meet you, Captain.” Azrael nodded to the man. “I imagine you know why we're here.”
“Yes, Sir. And I'm happy to release the child to you. Honestly, he's, uh, beyond our abilities to care for.” He glanced over his shoulder toward the tree. An older woman in a thick coat was chasing around what looked like a bundle of cloth, her expression strained. He looked back at us to add, “Just a few questions first.”
“Someone abducted the child, Captain,” Azrael said. “That's all I can tell you.”
“Oh. Uh. Well, I suppose that's all then, Sir.”
“Good. I'd like to take him home to his parents now.”
“Right. Sure.” The Captain turned and brought us through the crowd, then through the line of police officers.
It was only then that I realized the officers were there as much to confine Alex as to keep the crowd back. We had called him a baby, but Alexander was around three years old. With his Red Cap essence, he was more like a six-year-old with the mentality of a three-year-old. He hadn't matured faster, like Samara. He was just big. And solid.
“Mommy, now!” he screeched.
“We're trying to find your mommy,” the harried woman said.
“Alex!” I called. “Alexander, it's Aunty V!”
The bundle of blankets turned toward me to reveal Alexander's pudgy green face, his nose like a slab of butter that had started to melt, and his dark hair a wild mess that fell across his narrowed eyes.
He shrieked and tossed aside the blankets to run to me. “Aunty V!”
“Oh, thank God,” the woman moaned.
“Alex!” I crouched to catch him. “Are you all right?”
“I want my mommy,” he whispered, his bravado suddenly gone. A tear escaped his eye and his face squished up.
“I'm taking you to your mommy right now, okay?”
“Okay. Thank you. Please. Thank you.”
His parents had been trying to teach him manners. It would have been adorable if fear and relief hadn't made his words tremble.
“Az.” I looked up at him.
“I'll finish talking to the police and then I'll meet you at the citadel,” Azrael said. “Machar will be there.”
“Okay. Close your eyes, Alex.”
Alex nodded, squeezed his eyes shut, and hugged me tightly. I cradled him close and then traced us to the Golden Citadel. We reformed in the tracing room in the same position.
