Free The Warrior Heir by Cinda Williams Chima

serious." Jack peered out at the courthouse again.
    "Light saber. Flame thrower. Phaser. Electromagnetic de-atomizer. What he shot you with, dude." Fitch swiped at the blood on his face with the back of his hand and attempted a smile.
    "Why aren't you dead?" Will demanded. "It should have killed you, so I don't understand why you aren't dead. You're sure you're not hurt?"
    "No "Jack said slowly. "A little bruised, maybe. "There was a painful area between his shoulder blades, like he'd been hit in the back by a fast pitch. The only other sensation was a kind of tingling all over his body.
    Fitch reached around behind Jack and tugged at his hoodie. It disintegrated in his hand. "Nice shirt," he said, handing the charred shards of cloth to Jack. They had a gunpowder smell, like bottle rockets after a launch. Jack pulled the remains of the sweatshirt off over his head. The entire back was gone. Underneath, his new vest seemed to be in one piece. As a matter of fact, it didn't seem to be damaged at all.
    "Good thing you wore your bulletproof vest," Will observed dryly. "Guess me and Fitch didn't get the memo."
    Jack looked back at the courthouse, still lit only by the sallow glow of the security light. If an alarm had been raised, why hadn't anyone turned on the lights? And why hadn't the man at the top of the stairs said anything, identified himself?
    There was no sign of pursuit. The square and the courthouse were quiet.
    "Look," Jack said, swallowing hard. "I'm really sorry. When I asked you to come along on this trip, I never thought … I don't know who that was or what Aunt Linda is up to, but—"
    Fitch interrupted him. "Where is she?"
    No one had an answer for that. Jack imagined explaining to his mother that they'd lost her sister during the commission of a burglary, and shoved the image away.
    Fitch leaned wearily back against the stone foundation of the gazebo and closed his eyes. His pale hair lifted off his forehead as a breeze sprang up. "It's funny that he didn't set off an alarm."
    Jack shrugged. He'd heard of pitched battles over archaeological sites. But genealogy? What had they gotten into? Nervously, he checked his watch.
    "Aunt Linda said to meet her at the Bluebird in a half hour. It's about time." He prayed she would show up as promised. He wasn't sure what he would do if she didn't.
    Still wary of the courthouse, they slipped straight back from the gazebo to the far side of the square, then cut between the buildings to the next street. They traced a wide circle around to the Bluebird. It was a few minutes after nine when they walked into the bar.
    Loud  music  overwhelmed  them  as  they  stepped inside, followed by the scent of stale tobacco and beer. It took a few minutes for their eyes to adjust to the light. The only illumination came from neon beer signs. The place was crowded and there was a mix of patrons, young people, older people, those who were dressed up a bit and those who had obviously come straight from working a shift. It was, after all, a Friday night. Jack had the feeling that everyone in the place knew each other, and he and his friends were clearly outsiders. And they were underage, which was pointed out immediately.
    "Can I help you boys?” The girl wore an air of authority, although she didn't look much older than they were. A grinning, toothy bluebird hoisting a beer was embroidered on the pocket of her shirt. "I need to see some ID."
    "We're not drinking," Will explained. "Couldn't we just sit back in the restaurant part?" he asked. "We're waiting for someone."
    The waitress studied them for a moment, her gaze lingering longest on Will. Then she shrugged. "Sure, why not?" She nodded at an empty table in the back. "Seat yourselves. I'll bring you some menus if you like."
    "That'd be great," Will replied.
    "You look like you have a good appetite," the waitress replied, smiling at Will and fixing her ponytail. "Do you work out?"
    It turned out the waitress was into bodybuilding.