carrying her oversized duffel slung over one shoulder.
“Your brother is going to be here for at least another day,” Mom said. “If you forget anything we can call him and have him bring it with him. You have Mr. Hooves, and your backpack, so you should have everything you need.”
“He’s Doctor Hooves, Mom,” Dee corrected her before she gave an exasperated sigh at the failings of adults. Lucas and I chuckled at that, since Dee wasn’t more than a casual fan of the show he was from. He was more social camouflage; Dee was more a fan of another Doctor, even if she didn’t get everything about the show. The Doctor was cool, and so were bow ties, evidently.
We made it to the cars before Dee remembered something and dragged Dr. C back toward the gate in the chain-link fence that led into the backyard. Once he had the gate open, she practically sprinted toward the shed in the backyard and hopped up and down until he unlocked it and let her in. Moments later, she emerged carrying an eight-inch tube of brass with various shiny bits attached to it.
“I thought I said no wands,” Mom said to Dr. Corwyn when he caught up.
“It’s a Sonic!” Dee said before he could answer. “Chance’s is a rod, Dr. Corwyn’s is a wand, and mine is a Sonic Screwdriver.” She waved it around, and the end lit up as it buzzed.
“It’s inert,” Dr. C said. “I laced it with an iron core, so it’s grounded out. Just an LED and a chip to make the sound.”
“And I always say they have sonics,” Dee said with a triumphant smile. “Because magick isn’t real,” she recited.
“I’m going to regret this, but okay,” Mom said.
“Not nearly as much as I think I’m going to,” Dr. Corwyn said. “Dee, you aren’t going to be able to take it on the plane with you. You’ll have to pack it in your suitcase.” She nodded, but I could tell by her expression she wasn’t happy about that.
A few minutes later, Mom and Dee were in the Mustang with me, and in my rearview mirror I could see Dr. C looking uncomfortable in the passenger seat of the Falcon as Lucas backed out of the driveway . The Mustang rumbled to life and I backed out behind him, then followed him as he headed for the airport. The black 1967 Shelby GT model might have been old, but she still looked good, and she was still an eight-cylinder beast under the hood.
“Promise me you’re going to drive the speed limit the whole way,” Mom said as we took the first turn. “I don’t have the money to pay for a ticket. I can barely afford to cover the insurance on this thing as it is.”
“Not a mile an hour over,” I said. “Or two or five or ten,” I added quickly.
“Mom, can we do a scrapbook for our trip?” Dee asked from the back seat, and I thanked her for that, but quietly. As they rehashed the vacation so far, I kept one ear on the conversation, but both eyes on my surroundings. I’d been keeping a pretty low profile since my birthday in March; I hadn’t pissed anyone off for at least a couple of months, and no one knew where we were outside of the Conclave. That hadn’t kept a warlock from stumbling across us a few days ago, though she’d seemed as surprised as we were when she found us. Still, we’d handled her, but I’d been on edge ever since. It wasn’t until we pulled into the parking lot at Mathis Field that I let my grip on the steering wheel relax. The airport itself was a public facility, and it flew an American flag, so it was automatically considered exclusively cowan territory. My shoulders unknotted a little as I shifted the Mustang out of gear and pulled on the parking brake.
Mom let me carry her duffel bag, but Dee was fiercely insistent that she could handle her own suitcase. Lucas and Wanda fell in beside me and we let the adults lead the way. As we headed across the small lot toward the doors, I couldn’t help but notice the grin on Wanda’s face. She’d gained a couple of inches lately, both in height and in curves,
“Your brother is going to be here for at least another day,” Mom said. “If you forget anything we can call him and have him bring it with him. You have Mr. Hooves, and your backpack, so you should have everything you need.”
“He’s Doctor Hooves, Mom,” Dee corrected her before she gave an exasperated sigh at the failings of adults. Lucas and I chuckled at that, since Dee wasn’t more than a casual fan of the show he was from. He was more social camouflage; Dee was more a fan of another Doctor, even if she didn’t get everything about the show. The Doctor was cool, and so were bow ties, evidently.
We made it to the cars before Dee remembered something and dragged Dr. C back toward the gate in the chain-link fence that led into the backyard. Once he had the gate open, she practically sprinted toward the shed in the backyard and hopped up and down until he unlocked it and let her in. Moments later, she emerged carrying an eight-inch tube of brass with various shiny bits attached to it.
“I thought I said no wands,” Mom said to Dr. Corwyn when he caught up.
“It’s a Sonic!” Dee said before he could answer. “Chance’s is a rod, Dr. Corwyn’s is a wand, and mine is a Sonic Screwdriver.” She waved it around, and the end lit up as it buzzed.
“It’s inert,” Dr. C said. “I laced it with an iron core, so it’s grounded out. Just an LED and a chip to make the sound.”
“And I always say they have sonics,” Dee said with a triumphant smile. “Because magick isn’t real,” she recited.
“I’m going to regret this, but okay,” Mom said.
“Not nearly as much as I think I’m going to,” Dr. Corwyn said. “Dee, you aren’t going to be able to take it on the plane with you. You’ll have to pack it in your suitcase.” She nodded, but I could tell by her expression she wasn’t happy about that.
A few minutes later, Mom and Dee were in the Mustang with me, and in my rearview mirror I could see Dr. C looking uncomfortable in the passenger seat of the Falcon as Lucas backed out of the driveway . The Mustang rumbled to life and I backed out behind him, then followed him as he headed for the airport. The black 1967 Shelby GT model might have been old, but she still looked good, and she was still an eight-cylinder beast under the hood.
“Promise me you’re going to drive the speed limit the whole way,” Mom said as we took the first turn. “I don’t have the money to pay for a ticket. I can barely afford to cover the insurance on this thing as it is.”
“Not a mile an hour over,” I said. “Or two or five or ten,” I added quickly.
“Mom, can we do a scrapbook for our trip?” Dee asked from the back seat, and I thanked her for that, but quietly. As they rehashed the vacation so far, I kept one ear on the conversation, but both eyes on my surroundings. I’d been keeping a pretty low profile since my birthday in March; I hadn’t pissed anyone off for at least a couple of months, and no one knew where we were outside of the Conclave. That hadn’t kept a warlock from stumbling across us a few days ago, though she’d seemed as surprised as we were when she found us. Still, we’d handled her, but I’d been on edge ever since. It wasn’t until we pulled into the parking lot at Mathis Field that I let my grip on the steering wheel relax. The airport itself was a public facility, and it flew an American flag, so it was automatically considered exclusively cowan territory. My shoulders unknotted a little as I shifted the Mustang out of gear and pulled on the parking brake.
Mom let me carry her duffel bag, but Dee was fiercely insistent that she could handle her own suitcase. Lucas and Wanda fell in beside me and we let the adults lead the way. As we headed across the small lot toward the doors, I couldn’t help but notice the grin on Wanda’s face. She’d gained a couple of inches lately, both in height and in curves,
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