Free Near + Far by Cat Rambo Page B

again.
    Steadying herself, what would Mrs. Mountebank do? Well, then, do it. She picked dried blood from along the edges of the wound. She should have had stitches. It was not too late. Maybe when she dropped Lewis off at the hospital.
    In front of her bedroom door, she stopped. Three claw marks across it like a sign. Had they been there before? She hadn't looked.
    Beside her, Lewis. "What's up, sis?"
    She looked from him to the marks.
    He must be pretending not to see them. Just looked at her with a half-smile.
    Not Child-Lewis. Something else. Someone else. Someone born of despair and hate and desperation.
    Her brother was gone. When had he vanished? Why hadn't she noticed?
    Somehow she managed to pretend too. She'd make him wonder. Maybe think she had some plan up her sleeve. Or that she thought it was still a dream. She pretended. She dressed, ate breakfast, took him to an early appointment.
    "Seven," he said curtly as he left the car, not even bothering to feign courtesy or curiosity about the stiff way she held herself.
    Till seven. Hours in which to figure out what to do.
    She was just about to pull away from the curb when someone tapped on the window. She rolled it down.
    Ginger-haired, balding. His sleeves rolled down to expose his burly forearms. Tattoos covered the left, an intricate black and white pattern of tribal thorns around crossed daggers. He smelled of cigarette smoke and sweat.
    She disliked him immediately.
    But his voice was unexpectedly soft-spoken as he introduced himself as the Practical Shamanism group leader, Sam Mintie. He'd seen her waiting to pick up Lewis, he said, half-apologizing for invading her privacy, imposing himself.
    "Lewis is having a hard time with some of the class concepts," he said. "Actually, some of the other members want me to kick him out of the group. Particularly Mrs. Oates."
    Her cheeks burned. What horrible things had Lewis said, to make the entire group want him to go? She could only guess.
    "Mrs. Oates? But Lewis said the group was men only."
    Sam shook his head. "No. Perhaps he wanted to make sure you didn't check it out."
    That made sense. Lewis didn't like sharing anymore.
    "What concepts is he having trouble with?"
    He hesitated. "It'll take a while. Do you have time to go get coffee?"
    "Give me the short version and I'll decide."
    His eyes were blue and watery. "He thinks he's a dark shaman—or can become one—and that to do so, he needs to kill you."
    "Get in the car," she said.

    At the coffee shop, she asked, "Why me? He'd have an easier time luring in some homeless guy or something."
    "Because you're his closest blood," he said. "To move with ease in other dimensions, he has to symbolically cut ties with this one."
    "He's got it all worked out, doesn't he?" she said.
    "He does."
    "Lewis said people become more like themselves as they get closer to death," she said.
    Sam shook his head. "Really? I don't think so. You get more distanced, maybe, but not in a bad way. You know the saying, don't sweat the small stuff? You learn how to do that."
    But this, this wasn't small stuff.
    "So what is Lewis doing to symbolically cut ties with this one?"
    Sam looked down at the table. His voice was low, forcing her to lean in.
    "I'm sure you've noticed he's been especially mean, perhaps downright nasty to you lately. Maybe destroyed something that had personal significance for both of you."
    "Lewis has always has his sharp side."
    "He is very ... talented."
    The hesitation pulled her even closer. "More talented than any of the rest of the group?"
    "More talented than any of the rest of the group could ever dream to be."
    "How?"
    Sam shrugged. "Some mutation from the Plague? Or a genetic quirk? The right stars? But it seems to follow its own mythology. I've listened to Lewis expound on it at length."
    "How does his being nasty fit in?"
    "He must renounce you, as the representative of his ties to this world. First by not being emotionally attached."
    "And then?"
    "After he's