DR Congo border not that far away.
“We’re shopping?” Kelly asked when she found her tongue.
“Nope.” Walking briskly between stalls, I looked for a telltale Tuareg indigo blue turban and weathered tan caftan. My revised plan was a long shot, but standing around and doing nothing was too. I grabbed Kelly’s arm so I could lean in and talk to her without anyone else hearing me. No telling what ears, and eyes, were active at the Market. Besides it looked more natural for two women on our own to stick close together. “Djinn are said to be particularly fond of marketplaces and Muslims—which most Tuaregs are—have been warned many times not to be the first to enter the market or the last to leave it.”
Kelly stopped in her tracks. “Are you Muslim?” she asked, looking at me as if I had spoken Swahili.
“No. Why’d you think that?”
“How do you know Muslim superstitions?”
Okay, it wasn’t a direct response, but she didn’t seem inclined to budge until I admitted, “My father. He has traveled to a lot of places and has some great stories.”
“About the you-know-what?”
“Them and other things.” I glanced over my shoulder, not trusting the rough-looking men glancing in our direction. “Let’s see if we can find any blue men and we’ll talk tales later. Okay?”
She nodded, but didn’t get moving until she asked, “Are you going to tell Jaylene and Mandy where we are?”
Technically I should and we both knew it. This was still an Invisible Recruit op and running half-cocked into a bad situation could get both of us killed. Besides, among my father’s stories were old adages such as keep your friends close and your enemies closer. “Go ahead and notify them,” I said, scanning the crowds. My preternatural ring was heating up, but no telling what kind of non-human was lurking around us.
It took another fifteen or twenty minutes to spot our first lead; a taller man than our quarry, but definitely wearing the deep blue robes of a desert dweller. “Ten o’clock,” I whispered to Kelly.
“Is he—“
I shook my head, silencing her question before others could hear it. Talking about djinns in public in this part of the world was a big no-no. “But we’re going to follow him.”
We were on to Plan C. Find a Tuareg and hope he led us to more of his countrymen . One in particular.
Besides, he was heating my ring to the point my skin felt on fire.
CHAPTER NINE
It was mid-afternoon with the African sunlight painting stripes across canvas tarp tenting , and shadows digging deep grooves between stalls of baskets before Jaylene and Mandy caught up with us. Kelly and I had been stationary beside a crude barbershop for long enough to make me antsy. The tall man, if he was a man, had led us on a merry trek up and down stalls, stopping now and then to do a little backslapping, and haggling here and there. The kind of negotiating that involved quick glances around and sleight of hand, with something passing palm to palm.
Now he was loitering in front of what might be a dentist if I read the hand-painted sign correctly. To his left was a large opening with a woman hawking chickens, on the other side a smaller space that looked abandoned.
We’d obviously scored in finding someone involved in what clearly looked like shady dealings. But we weren’t any closer to the Tuareg I’d tangled with yesterday. A point Mandy was quick to address when she slid up next to Kelly.
Both she and Jaylene were wearing the same head-to-toe burqas that
Kelly and I wore, with only eyes visible. While the clothes seemed like a great disguise early that morning they were heating up to the point I was ready to strip mine off, middle of a public market or not.
“Time’s passing,” Mandy murmured, not looking at me though I knew good and well we were both uber aware of one another.
“If I needed a clock, I’d have asked for one,” I shot back, but was really too hot to focus on bickering with
“We’re shopping?” Kelly asked when she found her tongue.
“Nope.” Walking briskly between stalls, I looked for a telltale Tuareg indigo blue turban and weathered tan caftan. My revised plan was a long shot, but standing around and doing nothing was too. I grabbed Kelly’s arm so I could lean in and talk to her without anyone else hearing me. No telling what ears, and eyes, were active at the Market. Besides it looked more natural for two women on our own to stick close together. “Djinn are said to be particularly fond of marketplaces and Muslims—which most Tuaregs are—have been warned many times not to be the first to enter the market or the last to leave it.”
Kelly stopped in her tracks. “Are you Muslim?” she asked, looking at me as if I had spoken Swahili.
“No. Why’d you think that?”
“How do you know Muslim superstitions?”
Okay, it wasn’t a direct response, but she didn’t seem inclined to budge until I admitted, “My father. He has traveled to a lot of places and has some great stories.”
“About the you-know-what?”
“Them and other things.” I glanced over my shoulder, not trusting the rough-looking men glancing in our direction. “Let’s see if we can find any blue men and we’ll talk tales later. Okay?”
She nodded, but didn’t get moving until she asked, “Are you going to tell Jaylene and Mandy where we are?”
Technically I should and we both knew it. This was still an Invisible Recruit op and running half-cocked into a bad situation could get both of us killed. Besides, among my father’s stories were old adages such as keep your friends close and your enemies closer. “Go ahead and notify them,” I said, scanning the crowds. My preternatural ring was heating up, but no telling what kind of non-human was lurking around us.
It took another fifteen or twenty minutes to spot our first lead; a taller man than our quarry, but definitely wearing the deep blue robes of a desert dweller. “Ten o’clock,” I whispered to Kelly.
“Is he—“
I shook my head, silencing her question before others could hear it. Talking about djinns in public in this part of the world was a big no-no. “But we’re going to follow him.”
We were on to Plan C. Find a Tuareg and hope he led us to more of his countrymen . One in particular.
Besides, he was heating my ring to the point my skin felt on fire.
CHAPTER NINE
It was mid-afternoon with the African sunlight painting stripes across canvas tarp tenting , and shadows digging deep grooves between stalls of baskets before Jaylene and Mandy caught up with us. Kelly and I had been stationary beside a crude barbershop for long enough to make me antsy. The tall man, if he was a man, had led us on a merry trek up and down stalls, stopping now and then to do a little backslapping, and haggling here and there. The kind of negotiating that involved quick glances around and sleight of hand, with something passing palm to palm.
Now he was loitering in front of what might be a dentist if I read the hand-painted sign correctly. To his left was a large opening with a woman hawking chickens, on the other side a smaller space that looked abandoned.
We’d obviously scored in finding someone involved in what clearly looked like shady dealings. But we weren’t any closer to the Tuareg I’d tangled with yesterday. A point Mandy was quick to address when she slid up next to Kelly.
Both she and Jaylene were wearing the same head-to-toe burqas that
Kelly and I wore, with only eyes visible. While the clothes seemed like a great disguise early that morning they were heating up to the point I was ready to strip mine off, middle of a public market or not.
“Time’s passing,” Mandy murmured, not looking at me though I knew good and well we were both uber aware of one another.
“If I needed a clock, I’d have asked for one,” I shot back, but was really too hot to focus on bickering with
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