Trickster s Girl - By Hilari Bell Page 0,92

of the shot almost deafened Kelsa; it wasn't at all like the mild bang she heard on the vids. She spun to look back, staring in horror, wondering where the pain was.

But the biker had fired at the guard, who had dived behind a car and was yelling at the people in it to get down.

Was Redhead insane? Every second of this was being caught on the net. Kelsa hadn't dreamed he'd actually shoot at someone.

But he had. Horns sounded, and people yelled and jumped out of their cars, running away from the shooting - except for a foolish few who were creeping in on the money.

Redhead looked back, toward his gang, his bike. The gun in his hand was a clear warning. Kelsa heard the hum of a swarm of bikes drawing near. She turned and ran, weaving through the parked cars.

Shouted commands were followed by shots as more border guards ran forward. If anyone got hurt in this mess it would be her fault - though she'd never dreamed the biker gang would be crazy enough to try to shoot their way out in full view of the net!

The penalty for possessing an illegal gun was ten years. The penalty for firing one was much, much worse. Thank goodness she'd refused to touch the gun in the bag! She hoped the plastic bullets wouldn't penetrate a car.

As a fusillade of shots rang out behind her, Kelsa dodged around a final bumper and reached the park where the sign welcomed everyone to Alaska.

She pressed her hands over her ears and dived behind a concrete planter, praying that everyone survived. This had gotten totally out of hand!

But she still had a job to do. Looking around, she saw that most of the people who'd been waiting for walk-through traffic on this side of the fence had taken shelter behind the welcome sign. At least, there were a lot of feet beneath it.

On the other side people were crouching behind whatever cover they could find - planters, benches. Who to choose? One boy, who'd taken shelter behind a tree that looked too small to protect him, caught her gaze.

He was clearly a full Native American, with cheekbones higher and broader than Raven's. His shining black hair was cut in modern wedges, and he wore what looked like a business suit and shiny black shoes.

No teenage boy dressed like that voluntarily. Someone's driver perhaps? He looked too young for that, but he also looked like someone who would understand Native American magic far better than she had. And at least she could be certain he wasn't a shapeshifter, because not even a supernatural being could have anticipated this!

Like everyone else, he was staring toward the gun battle. The shooting had stopped, and the guards were shouting demands that the bikers surrender, while the bikers were yelling for the guards to back off.

It didn't sound promising, but Kelsa had to get the boy's attention. Now. Somehow.

The planter that sheltered her was filled with dirt, covered by a layer of smooth stones.

The first rock she threw over the fence clattered on the ground several yards from the boy. He glanced at it, but he didn't look at her.

Another shot was fired, and the shouting grew louder.

Kelsa gritted her teeth and took careful aim. She wasn't good enough to throw anything through the fence's tight-spaced ribs, but...

The next stone banged off the tree over his head, and the boy jumped as if it were a bullet. This time he had the sense to look around.

Kelsa waved frantically at him. Once his gaze was fixed on her, she pulled the medicine pouch from beneath her shirt and held it up for him to see.

It took only moments to wrap the cord around the pouch. The leather was warm from her body. Her father's ashes were mixed in with its dust. She'd given her heart to completing this quest. But it was Atahalne's quest as much as hers. Humanity's quest. Humanity's duty.

Love and death and duty didn't seem quite as clear-cut to Kelsa now as they had a few months ago.

It was time to pass it on.

She threw the pouch over the fence. She'd intended it to fall at the boy's feet, even into his waiting hands, but the pouch wasn't as aerodynamic as a stone. It landed almost six feet short of the tree.

The boy's brows rose, questioning.

Kelsa gestured impatiently for him to pick it up.

He seemed to make up his mind all at once, scrambling