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So it was. She sighed, watched her breath blossom in the frosty air, and turned back toward the bench.“Why don’t you get in the car and we’ll take you somewhere you can get some Christmas dinner.”

“Can the pigeons come?”

“No.”

That was the best news he’d heard in a while.

The pigeons, who recognized the police as Nice Dark Targets, refused to cooperate.

Samuel finally backed up about twenty feet, raced forward, and flung himself into the back of the squad car, giving PC Patton about six seconds to slam the door before the birds caught up. When the first bird hit the window, she almost peed herself, she was laughing so hard.

[Ęŕđňčíęŕ: img_6]

Darkness had emerged just outside Waverton for a reason. The tiny town was not only far enough off the beaten track that a Keeper wouldn’t stumble on it by accident, it was fairly close to the bloated population base along the Canada/U.S. border—there was a limited amount of trouble that could be caused without active human participation and darkness didn’t like to waste time. Parts of central Russia, Africa, and Nevada also fit the geographic criteria, but appearing in any of those areas would have been redundant at best.

She found a pair of denim overalls, black canvas sneakers, and a nylon jacket in what had been the office of J. Henry and Sons Auto Repair. While appreciative of the chaos she could cause walking around naked, keeping a lower profile seemed the smarter move. The outfit wasn’t stylish, but it was serviceable.

Although to her surprise, shewas a little concerned that the overalls made her look fat.

Which soon became a minor problem.

Once in the world, she should have been able to move instantaneously from place to place, but something seemed to be stopping her. It didn’t take long to figure out what. While walking the four and half kilometers into town, she decided that staying as far away from the light as possible was no longer an option; her new plan involved finding him and kicking his holier than thou butt around the block a few times.What had he been thinking?

Actually, given which set he’d gotten, she had a pretty good idea of what he’d been thinking.

“Men,” she’d snarled at a hydro pole, left forearm tucked under her breasts to stop the painful bouncing. “They’re all alike.”

The power went off in half the county.

Which made her feel only half better.

She’d planned on finding a ride south as soon as she got to Waverton, twisting the weak and pitiful will of some poor mortal to her bidding. Unfortunately, there was no one around; the only thing moving on Main Street was the random blinking of a string of Christmas lights hung in the window of one of the closed businesses. She could have shot a cannon off in any direction and not hit a soul. Andif she’d had a cannon, shewould have shot it off.

As she didn’t…

The bank on the corner burst into black-tipped flame.

Rummaging about in her pocket, she pulled out a marshmallow.

Need provides.

Twenty minutes later, the scene seethed with people—volunteer firefighters, both constables from the local OPP detachment, and most of the remaining population.

Now that’s more like it. Bonus points for pulling a Keeper up into the middle of nowhere to close this hole opened by arson, leaving more populated areas unprotected. Jostled by the crowd, she snarled and drove her heel as hard as she could down on the nearest toe.

“Ouch. Excuse me.”

Confused, she turned and glared into soft brown eyes bracketed between a dark pink hat and a pale pink scarf.“Why are you apologizing? You’re the victim.”

“No one has to be a victim, dear.” The older woman frowned slightly, her gaze sliding from dyed hair to running shoes and back up again. “You’re not from around here, are you?”

Strangers were universally suspect when something went wrong. Settling her weight on one hip, she folded her arms.“No, I’m not.”

“Are you alone?”

She glanced over her shoulder at the tendril of darkness seeping out of the hole, watched one of the firefighters“accidentally” turn the hose on another, and she smiled. “Mostly.” Once accused of setting the fire, she’d be able to cause all sorts of havoc. She’d be able to turn their anger at her onto other targets, counter-accusing once she had the attention of the crowd. Maybe the good townspeople would like to know about Mr. Tannison, the bank manager.

“A stranger,” the woman repeated thoughtfully, the flames reflecting in both halves of her bifocals. “And all alone.”

Here it comes, she thought.

“How did you get here? We’re not exactly in the center of things.” Her eyes widened. “You’ve run away, haven’t you?”

“No, I…”

“All alone. In a strange place. And on Christmas, too.” Pink-mittened hands clasped over a formidable bosom. “Where were you running away to?”

“The city…”

“Of course, the city.” Her sigh plumed out silver-white. “But for right now, you have nowhere to go for Christmas dinner, do you?”

“I don’t eat.”

“That’s what I thought.”

And the strange thing was, thatwas what she thought. Which made less than no sense.