Free The Warrior Heir by Cinda Williams Chima Page A

She and Will quickly progressed to flexing and feeling each other's biceps before she finally left to fetch their sodas.
    Jack glared at Will. "You can't possibly be hungry." A great hard stone of apprehension at his center made it impossible for him to think of eating. Or of anything else.
    "Well, why not?" Will said, unperturbed, scanning the menu. "They aren't going to serve us beer, and we can't just sit here."
    "How do we know that guy isn't in here?" Fitch was hunched over, as if to make his lanky frame smaller.
    Jack looked around. He saw no tall men in long coats, felt no cold, threatening presence, but it wouldn't be hard to hide in this crowd.
    "Do you mind if I join you?"
    Jack looked up, startled, into blue and gold eyes. Aunt Linda's spiky gold-and-silver hair was disheveled, and there was the shadow of a bruise over one cheekbone. Her blue jean jacket looked like it had been used to wipe up the floor.
    All three of them started talking at once. Linda shook her head, her lips pressed tightly together. The waitress had returned.
    "I see you found your friend," she said, clunking glasses down in front of them, eying Linda jealously. "You all ready to order?"
    Jack ordered something at random, watching Linda. She sat, facing the door, looking up each time it opened.
    She's scared to death, Jack thought.
    Linda leaned forward. "Are you three all right?" She studied each of them in turn as if she feared there might be parts missing, looking so guilty and miserable that Jack found himself wishing he could make her feel better somehow. "Jack, I saw you fall—"
    "I'm okay," Jack said quickly. He looked around at the others. "You guys are all right, aren't you?"
    "Well …" Will shrugged. "I about wet my pants when that freak opened the door."
    "Why would he shoot at us?" Fitch asked. "If it wasn't the police, or a night watchman, why would he be sneaking around in there at night? There's nothing but a bunch of old court records." He swirled the ice in his glass and looked at Linda. "Unless he was looking for the same thing we are. Like in Tomb Raider."
    Linda said nothing. The waitress circled the table, setting their plates before them.
    "All he had to do was ask," Will said. "I would've given him Death Book A, for sure."
    Jack studied his steak sandwich as if it were something unfamiliar and inedible. Fitch picked at his food, and Linda ignored what was on her plate and drank her second beer straight from the bottle. Will was the only one who seemed hungry.
    "Do you think he was just trying to scare us off?" Jack asked, conscious of the bruised spot in the middle of his back. "Or would he come after us in here?"
    "He won't come in here," Linda said, picking absently at a broken nail. "He knows we haven't found anything yet. And now he knows all he has to do is follow me." With that, she shut her mouth, as if she realized she had already said too much.
    Jack dropped his silverware onto his plate with a clatter. "So you know who that guy is?" More and more he was asking questions he already knew the answers to.
    "Yes," she said. "I know who he is. I just never expected to meet up with him here." She looked at Fitch and Will. "If I had, I never would have brought you two along."
    What about me? Am I, like, expendable, then? Jack thought, careening between anger and bewilderment.
    Rock music pounded from the speakers as people crowded into the Bluebird Cafe. Someone propped the front door open as the room heated up. Linda's gaze flickered to the open door.
    "Is he out there?" Jack asked.
    Linda nodded. "Not far away, anyway. The thing is," she said as if continuing their earlier conversation. "I'm looking for a … a family heirloom. I was hoping to find it this weekend. He must be looking for it, too. Either he traced it to Coal Grove through Susannah's genealogy or he followed me down here. And if he followed me here …" Her voice trailed off. She was looking at Jack. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat.
    Will scarfed