Free Darkthunder's Way by Tom Deitz

had glimpsed her clothing: white linen blouse and a long fringed skirt of obviously foreign manufacture. The body beneath was slim yet well developed; maybe she was some sort of athlete or one of the carny women out for a lark. “S-sorry,” he managed, and could not resist another glance at her face.
    “No damage done,” the girl replied. She had an accent, though he couldn’t place it except that he knew he’d heard it before. “I should have been more careful,” she continued.
    “But I really am sorry,” Alec stammered. “I don’t usually make a habit of running into b—” He stopped himself a bare syllable short of saying beautiful women, and colored again. What was wrong with him? It wasn’t like he’d never seen a pretty girl before. Except, he realized he hadn’t—not like this one, anyway. And she was so… so approachable, he supposed; not like the spiteful, self-centered airheads at school, who he was convinced carried a gene for bitchiness along with the ones for blond hair, perfect skin and great bods. Liz was the only truly pretty girl he knew who wasn’t stuck-up about it—and she was taken.
    The girl blinked, as if waiting for him to complete his sentence. “I don’t usually run into people,” he finished lamely. “I’m usually more together than that.”
    “Apology accepted!”
    “Uh… anything I can do to make amends?” Alec blurted before he was truly aware of what he was saying. “Buy you a Coke, or something?”
    Again that smile: red lips above perfect teeth; and God, didn’t she have nice eyes? “I’m not hungry now. But maybe—sometime.”
    “Sometime?”
    She nodded. “I have an errand that will not wait.”
    “An… an errand? Need any help? I know my way around the fair pretty well.”
    “Alas, no. I must find out certain things—though I think I have already found one of the things I sought.” Alec’s heart flip-flopped. Could she possibly mean… Surely not! On the other hand, maybe she did. He wasn’t bad looking, he supposed. And she was foreign, she might be grateful for any kind voice in a storm. Now he thought of it, too, she did look a wee bit troubled; he could see it in the gentle furrowing of her brow. (Lordy Jesus, what wonderful eyes!)
    Already she was backing away, on the verge of being swept into the mob. “I— Wait,” he called. “I don’t even know your name! I—” He froze, amazed at his own forwardness. Usually he was shy around girls—certainly shyer than Davy had recently become. Except that somehow all that had left him. Suddenly he felt newborn, as an unfamiliar confidence welled up in him, making him almost giddily reckless.
    The girl ducked past the skinny, hard-looking woman who had threatened to come between them. “Call me Eva!” She pronounced the first letter somewhere between E and A . “And you are…?”
    “Alec. Alec McLean. I live over in MacTyrie.”
    The girl’s face brightened. “MacTyrie! Ah—truly I may see you, then. I am visiting this area, you see, and—”
    “Where’re you from?”
    Another laugh, like silver. “Many places, my sudden friend, many places!”
    “But—”
    The crowd eddied in once more. “Truly, I must leave,” Eva cried, as it took her. “But perhaps we will meet again. In fact, I think I would like to.”
    Alec’s grin stretched so wide it made his cheeks hurt. “Wait!” he called, as the girl turned to go. He started after, but found his way blocked as the sweaty throng swirled in to make way for the hot-dog cart a clown was pushing past. Then someone jostled him from behind and someone else from the side, and when he found his balance again, Eva had vanished.
    How strange, he told himself. How very strange. Now that had certainly been interesting. Jesus, she’d been pretty, and nice, as far as he could tell. Maybe not too nice, though: because she sure hadn’t been the least bit shy. She had actually appeared to like him, too. Was it possible…? Nah, no such luck, not