Chapter Five
Islumped downon the bridge beside the dead giant, still trying to get my breath back, even as I scanned the surrounding woods.
The fight hadn’t been nearly as quiet as I’d wanted it to be, but I didn’t see anyone running through the trees, and I didn’t hear any shouts that would indicate that someone had heard the giants’ yells and screams and was coming to investigate.
SinceI was relatively safe, at least for the moment, I glanced at the three giants, but they all lay where they had fallen, as dead as dead could be. They couldn’t give me any answers about who had sent them and why.
But maybe their phones could.
I got up on my knees again, tucked my knife back up my sleeve, and started patting down Lancelot. Despite the fact that he was gussied up in black leatherfor the faire, he still had his phone in his pants pocket, and it was still on. The honorable knight had done the not-so-honorable thing of ignoring Darrell’s request to turn it off. Luckily, the device hadn’t been damaged during our fight, and I hit the button on the side. The phone was locked, but maybe I could fix that.
I grabbed Lancelot’s right hand, which was covered in blood and bruises,much like the rest of him was. The left sleeve of my dead-bird blouse was already torn from where I’d been cut during the fight, so I ripped off some of the loose fabric and used it to wipe the blood off Lancelot’s index finger. Then I pressed his slightly cleaner finger onto the screen. A moment later, the device unlocked, and I let the giant’s hand flop back down to the bridge.
The first thingI did was change the settings so that the phone would stay unlocked. Then I scrolled through Lancelot’s contacts, but I didn’t recognize any of the names. No Tucker, no Mason, no mysterious initials, although there were several odd monikers like the Mesmerizing Magician, the Red Queen, the Bloody Barbarian, and so on.
Lancelot had really been into the whole ren-faire scene. No wonder he’d beenso good with that sword. He’d actually learned how to use the long, heavy blade. I made a mental note to add medieval weapons to my assassin training regimen.
Since I didn’t recognize any of the contact names, I moved on to the call log. But none of the phone numbers jumped out at me, so I pulled up his texts. And I finally found something interesting.
Someone called the Black Rook had sentLancelot several messages over the past few months. In fact, it looked like the giant had been texting with this person more than anyone else. Most of the texts were about the renaissance faire and focused on costumes, weapons, and the like. I was just about to give up and search the other two giants for their phones when I spotted a final text that was part of a new chain. So I opened it.
Targetwill be at Winter’s Web as planned, along with friends. We need to separate and isolate the target. You know what to do.
Well, that was some pretty ominous bad-guy talk. This text also had a photo attachment, so I clicked on the file and waited for it to download and then pop up on the screen. I fully expected to see some shot of myself walking down the sidewalk or maybe even cooking inside thePork Pit. But my smiling face wasn’t the one that appeared on the screen.
It was Owen’s.
I blinked and blinked, but the image didn’t change. The picture looked like it had been taken at some recent charity event, given the red and green holiday lights glowing in the background. Owen was wearing a black tuxedo and grinning at someone I couldn’t see, but he was most definitely the focus of thephoto.
Owen? Why would the giant have a picture of Owen instead of me—
Horrible understanding slammed into my brain, while sick certainty curdled in my stomach. The giants might have been watching me, but only to make sure that I didn’t interfere with their plans. This wasn’t about me. For once, I didn’t seem to be the main target.
Owenwas.
Fear, worry, and dread punched me in the heart,one right after another, leaving me dizzy, shaking, and breathless. For a moment, everything inside me lurched to a cold, hard, painful stop. Then my mind kicked into gear again, and my body zoomed into overdrive.
I got to my feet, stuffed the giant’s phone into my pants pocket, and started running.
I left thedead giants where theyhad fallen on the bridge. I didn’t care if anyone found them and realized what had happened, that I had killed them.
Right now, the only thing that mattered was getting to Owen.
So I ran, ran, ran, as fast as I could, my boots pounding along the trail in perfect time to the frantic fear pulsing through my heart.
Must save Owen... must save Owen... must save Owen...
It became likea mantra running through my mind, and I used it to block out everything else. The cold air searing my lungs, the growing stitch in my side, the throbbing sting in my forearm, the blood still sliding down my skin from where Lancelot had cut me with his sword. I ignored it all, sucked down another breath, and forced myself to move even faster.
I hadn’t gone as far into the woods as I’d thought,and I quickly made it back to the end of the trail. I sprinted out into the grassy park and had to stop short to let a group of boys dressed like Vikings pass by. The second they were out of the way, I started running again.
Well, I tried to run. The park was even more crowded than before, and I had to slow down to a fast walk so that I wouldn’t bowl people over. Even then, I still had to pullup, sidestep, and dart around person after person after person, and I had to bite my tongue to keep from screaming at each and every delay.
I finally made it back to the concessions area. Sophia was still inside the Pork Pit truck, and she leaned out the window as I raced by, obviously wondering what going on, but I didn’t have time to stop and explain.
Must save Owen... must save Owen... must save Owen...
The mantra kept pounding in my head, getting a little louder, quicker, and more frantic with each passing second, and I hurried across the grass and over to the blacksmith forge.
