The all-shifter security agency, Protection, Inc: Defenders, which he sometimes freelanced for, had been stalked for a while by a mysterious and dangerous group of villains using both science and magic. Their plots tended toward the bizarre and baroque. Pretending to be a bunch of hunters enacting “The Most Dangerous Game” was exactly their style.
It felt deeply unfair that they’d gone after him too. He didn’t even work there. He wasn’t on the team. He just occasionally gave them a little technical help.
Of course, it was even more unfair to Fenella, who had literally nothing to do with any of this. Probably the sadistic bastards had grabbed her because they thought it would be hilarious to toss him in a swamp with his worst enemy.
She bit our enemies,growled a monster.
The enemy of our enemy is our friend,said another monster.
The monsters were being more coherent than usual. Normally they were a writhing, gibbering, screeching mob inside his head. Maybe the color-communication monster wasn’t the only one who liked the swamp.
“Right?” Fenella asked.
It took him a moment to recall what they’d been talking about. “Yeah, we shouldn’t waste any time bathing until we’ve already paddled all day. Once it’s getting close to sunset, we can stop and bathe and forage some food—which I hope you can do, because I sure don’t know what’s edible in a swamp—and I’ll build… something.” As an afterthought, he said, “No, I do know one thing we can eat. Fish.”
“We don’t have a fishing pole or a net.”
“I could make one. Though I’m not sure how tasty anything will be that we pull out ofthat.” He waved his hand at the black water.
“I learned about edible plants,” she said. “I don’t know how much I remember, though. I sure wouldn’t try any mushrooms.”
Glumly and muddily, they got in the boat.
“Ever paddled a boat?” Fenella asked.
“I rented a gondola in Venice once,” Carter said. “What about you?”
“In Girl Scouts,” she replied. Of course.
The little boat cut through the black water and the lily pads. They navigated around little islands and passed through canals lined with trees draped in gray, gauzy Spanish moss. It would have been beautiful and relaxing if he’d been with a friend or a date instead of Fenella Kim, and if he’d been in clean and swamp-appropriate clothes rather than a muddy suit, and if he’d had on sunscreen and cologne rather than mud and mud.
A bullfrog shrieked and dove off a lily pad, landing in the water with a loud plop. Swamp water splashed over his cufflinks. The bullfrog goggled at him from the black water.
On second thought,Carter thought,I hate this place.
“I think that’s a Papa,” Fenella said suddenly.
“What? Where?” He looked around, but didn’t see any other human being, let alone a man who could conceivably be Fenella Kim’s father.
“There. See? It’s a Papa tree.”
“What?”
“A Papa tree,” Fenella repeated. “Papas grow on them.”
Even given everything else going on, that was deeply surreal. “A… sorry, what?”
“P-A-W-P-A-W. They’re fruit.”
She must think I’m an idiot in addition to being a lunatic,he thought.Great.
“Oh. Right. I think I’ve vaguely heard of them.” He was telling the truth, but he didn’t think she believed him.
They paddled the boat toward the tree, which grew on yet another island. They got off the boat, testing the ground beneath their feet. To his relief, it didn’t wobble.
The tree was laden with yellow-green fruit. Fenella looked up at it, then abruptly burst out laughing.
“What?” Carter demanded.
