those big trunks, he knew someone was up to no good. Damn things were big enough to fit two, maybe three, crates of bootleg hooch. The owner probably saw a few uniforms milling about, got cold feet, and ran. The Southern Pacific railway didn’t hold with bootleggers. As a baggage-checker it was Samuel’s job to, well, check the baggage. And if there were as many bottles in these trunks as he suspected, no one would miss one.
He marched over to the trunks. The minute he got within a foot of them, he reeled back, hand shooting up to cover his nose. Goddamn! If that was hooch, he didn’t want even a sip of it. Smelled like something curled up and died in there. He was surprised the baggage-handlers in San Francisco hadn’t noticed. Maybe it hadn’t smelled that bad before spending a half-day in a baggage car, baking in the August heat.
As Samuel reached for the latch, a pickup truck backed up to the receiving dock. A young man stepped out from the driver’s side, but Samuel barely got a look at him before his attention was snagged by the passenger. A brunette. A real doll. Swanky, like some kind of movie star.
The young couple walked toward him, the woman holding out a baggage-claim slip.
“These your trunks, ma’am?” Samuel asked.
She smiled. “They are. Sorry we’re late. I got off the train, then realized I had to get my brother to bring the truck around for the trunks. They’re quite heavy.”
“May I ask what’s in them?”
“Oh just…personal items.” She smiled. “You know how women pack.”
Her brother snorted. “Got that right. Two trunks for a weekend visit. You’d think she was moving back home.”
The young man moved toward the trunks, but Samuel lifted a hand.
“There’s a…funny smell coming from them, ma’am.”
The woman’s blue eyes widened. “There is?”
“There sure is,” her brother said, nose wrinkling. “And there’s something oozing out the bottom. Jeepers, Jo, what you got in here?”
Before she could answer, Samuel stepped up to the first trunk. He reached for the latch, but saw that it was locked.
“Ma’am? I’m going to need to ask you to open these.”
Jolynn stared at the baggage-handler, as if not understanding his request.
Victoria? What do I do now?
She waited, but her friend didn’t answer. She must have been thinking up a plan. As the baggage-handler and Ricky waited, Jolynn rummaged through her purse, pretending to look for the keys.
Victoria?
“Ma’am, I need those—”
“Wait,” she snapped. “I’m looking for them.”
Victoria? Please, please, please. We’re in trouble.
Nothing.
Victoria!
The name echoed through the silence of her brain.
10
TRSIEL TOOK US BACK INTO JANAH’S ROOM, WHERE I waited as they went at it. No, I don’t mean an angel-on-angel sword-slamming duel, though that would have been kind of fun. This was a fight of the verbal variety…and not much of a fight at that.
Trsiel talked to Janah in what I assumed was her native tongue, and she eventually calmed down, though I suspect it had more to do with his tone than his words. Trsiel had two voice settings. One, probably his natural voice, could have stopped traffic. The moment you heard it, you’d stop whatever you were doing, just to sit and listen. If he kept talking, you’d keep listening, but probably not hear a word he said, too intent on the voice to comprehend the message.
That’s the voice he’d first used to get my attention, and it was the one he now used to calm Janah. But when he switched to conversation mode, he adopted a more “normal” tone, one that would be a DJ’s dream, but not so spellbinding that you’d ignore what he was saying.
Finally, he changed to English for my benefit. He explained my mission, and with each word, Janah’s gaze un-clouded, as her mind cleared and focused. Then she turned to me, eyes narrowing.
“They send this one after her?” She snorted. “And they call me mad.”
I started to retort, but Trsiel cut me off.
“The Fates know what they’re doing,” he said.
“No, they do not. She will fail.”
“Perhaps, but—”
“She will fail. No ‘perhaps.’ This is a job for an angel, and she is not an angel.”
“Not yet.”
“Not yet what?” I said.
“This is her inaugural quest?” Janah leapt to her feet. “This is not—it cannot be—Fools!”
Trsiel tried to quiet her, but she lunged at him so fast I saw only a blur. Trsiel didn’t move. She stopped, with only an inch between them, and pulled herself up straight. She barely reached his chest, but that didn’t keep her from