Free Cloak (YA Fantasy) by James Gough Page A

mouth.
    “Attacked only hours after I diagnosed you as an Immune,” he muttered. “How could word have leaked so fast?”
    “I was wondering that myself,” answered Kaya, slamming the door behind her after the others had climbed in. “There must be a mole in ISPA. From now on, we limit all details about Will to the team present here. Understood?”
    Everyone nodded. Will’s gurney was pushed between piles of pastry boxes and a teetering stack of deli rolls. There was no seating in the truck. Kaya balanced on bags of baguettes while the others made makeshift seats out of boxes of bagels, mounds of pumpernickel and racks of sourdough. The air had the bitter smell of stale bread and moldy buns. Bands of rust crept along the edges of the walls and the whole truck listed to one side.
    Kaya pounded the roof twice with her fist. The truck revved and lurched forward, tossing the boxes as it rumbled onto the street.
    “All clear.”
    Will sat up, careful to hold his backless robe.
    “A few bruises and scrapes.” The doctor finished checking Will’s toes for hairline fractures. “You are a fortunate young man.”
    “Yeah, I am. Thanks to Kaya.”
    The cat-woman flickered a small smile.
    “Fortune favors the brave,” said Dr. Noctua, pressing his spectacles back onto the bridge of his beak. “I heard you did much of the escaping yourself.”
    “It’s true,” purred Kaya. “He fought well. Will’s quick action forced the hunter into the elevator. Had he taken the stairs, we would not be speaking right now.”
    Will blanched at the thought.
    “If we’d been better, he wouldn’t have needed to save himself,” grumbled the smallest of the three people in hoods.
    “Val, it was no one’s fault. That’s what is going into the official report.”
    “Reports don’t save lives.” The tiny woman reached up and removed her hood, flinging it at a crate of banana cupcakes. Seated on a squashed box of Chocolate Covered Nutty-Pals, the petite, middle-aged woman’s feet couldn’t touch the floor. She had fawn-like eyes, soft white spots, and a voice much too big for her body. Her face looked human, except for the six-inch antlers curving from her temples. Part of her right earlobe was missing. Faded scars dotted her face and neck. The deer-woman moved with rigid precision and remarkable speed as she stripped off her gloves and wiped the sweat from her brow. With a diminutive hoof-hand, she reached up to fluff the sweaty, caramel-colored hair matted between her antlers.
    “Well, I guess introductions are in order. Will Tuttle, meet my team, I mean your Special Branch protection team.” Kaya gestured toward the deer enchant. “This is Agent Val Manning, our self-defense and hand-to-hand combat specialist.”
    Will wondered how the three-and-a-half-foot tall woman could be a combat specialist.
    “Good to meet ya, Tuttle,” she said gruffly, extending her diminutive hand.
    Will reached to shake it, but the woman yanked her hand away and seized Will’s wrist with two fingers, twisting his arm painfully to one side.
    “Ow, ow, ow!” complained Will.
    Dr. Noctua ducked down and spun his head so he could speak face to face with Will, who was still bent over in Agent Manning’s wrist-grip. “Wilhelm, I forgot to mention. In enchant culture we don’t shake hands because of the variety of, well, differences.” The owl held up his own feathery wing tip and wiggled the feathers like fingers. “It’s considered a sign of aggression.”
    Dr. Noctua turned toward the deer enchant. “Agent Manning, I believe there’s been a misunderstanding. Could Wilhelm please have his hand back?”
    The deer woman complied.
    “Instead of a handshake, we touch the back of the limbs, wings, paws, et cetera. Like this.” Dr. Noctua showed Will how to hold his hand and let the other person tap it like a backhanded high five. “Good. Now try it again with Agent Manning.”
    Will looked at the deer-woman and rubbed his wrist. “Are you