The Silver Glove by Suzy McKee Charnas Page B

I’d rather not have used those old friends against that, but I couldn’t see an alternative.”
    â€œFriends?” I squinted to make out the gulls, pale spots riding the dark water.
    â€œThey’re just birds, lovie, not spirits. I know how to get on their frequency, that’s all. I wish I hadn’t had to. They’ve a tough enough life as it is.”
    â€œCan we go down now?” I said. My hands felt like two bundles of icy cramps and my ears ached from the wind.
    â€œWe have no choice,” Gran said.
    We were flying very low, heading southeast, limping in off the river onto the west shoreline of Manhattan Island. We hopped over the West Side Drive, skimmed a parapet wall, and bounced in the air, just missing a big skylight of dirty, frosted panes. We landed with a bump in the middle of a rooftop.
    I staggered upright and stepped off the wounded carpet.
    We were on some kind of industrial roof with a row of skylights marching down the middle of it. The building—it looked like a warehouse—seemed to take up one whole end of a block. It was surrounded by streets on three sides. The fourth side was bounded by a narrow alley and a neighboring building. An old iron fire escape led down over the farther parapet into the alley.
    Gran stooped and grabbed one edge of the carpet. “Come on, lovie, give me a hand with this.”
    To my surprise the carpet was very light and easy to handle. It folded not only in half but in quarters and then again, and again, each time getting smaller and less bulky. In no time we were standing nose to nose and Gran was smoothing down something that looked like a handkerchief. She tucked it carefully into the baggy side-pocket of her tweed coat.
    â€œPoor wounded carpet,” I said. “Can you fix it?”
    â€œOh, I think so,” Gran said, frowning absently.
    â€œHe tried to kill us!” I said, shivering, and then I blushed to have said something so stupid. I mean, this guy was stealing people’s souls. Trying to kill me and my Gran would be like swatting flies to a person like that.
    Gran kindly ignored my foolishness completely. “Let’s get cracking, lovie, before he locates us again.” She set off down the roof toward the fire escape. “I must find Dirty Rose for our dinner at Collie’s Kitchen. As for your mother, try to keep her out of Brightner’s company.” She looked hard, at me. “This meeting they’ve already had—tell me, lovie, did you notice? Does your mother still have her shadow?”
    â€œI think so,” I said, trying to remember. It’s not as easy as you’d think, recalling whether a person has a shadow or not. I mean, it’s not the kind of thing you look for.
    â€œI imagine she does,” Gran said in a worried tone. “I’m very much afraid that he’s preparing something special for your mother.”
    â€œWhat do you mean?” I said. “I thought you said she’s just somebody to use as a sort of hostage, to keep you from getting in his way.”
    Gran gave me a thoughtful look. “And people sometimes let hostages go, when there’s no more reason to hold them; is that what you’re thinking?”
    I couldn’t exactly bring myself to say what I was thinking, which was that maybe we should let Brightner take his load of shadows with him, if only he would leave my mom behind. How could we fight him, Gran and me? We had just barely escaped alive, thanks to a bunch of greedy, rowdy sea gulls!
    Gran leaned against the parapet. An ambulance went wailing by someplace way below in the streets. She said in a quiet, matter-of-fact tone, “Brightner is clearly willing to try to simply kill me outright, and you, too. So he doesn’t need your mother as a hostage, does he? He must be interested in Laura in her own right.”
    â€œYou mean, really? As a—as a date? As a girlfriend?”
    Gran said, “We must