I studied the board and how it was supported, wondering if I could just . . . tip it over and walk past. The thing might alert when it fell, however, and that wasn’t any better than just setting it off to begin with. I almost laughed at myself as I realized I could slip behind it through the Grey and step out on the other side of the turnstiles without ever passing in front of the skeleton. It was a good thing Quinton hadn’t come with me, since he had no such ability.
I waited for a rush in the late-morning commuter crowd and slid past the skeleton alarm. Now I just had to deal with the MUAs on the other side. I was pretty sure they knew what I looked like by now—Rui and Papa Purlis both knew, and it was unlikely that anyone working for this group had no discreet communications. I’d have to spot them before they spotted me.
I walked to the system map on a wall and studied it, planning my route. I also checked for the locations of the two creeps I’d spotted as I did so. It appeared that the route was faster if I went south, but there were more chances to lose a tail if I went north, and the zoo’s metro station connected to the northernmost train station in Lisbon. I was sure I’d be able to find a bus or a train going northeast from there. . . .
The platform announcement system made a noise and someone spoke in Portuguese, followed by English, French, and Spanish repetitions of the information that a northbound train was approaching the platform and everyone should remain behind the safety lines. All subways seem to have the same message. I made my way down to the platform, barely staying in the rush of people hoping to make this train while I kept an eye out for the MUAs. One was pacing at the end of the platform nearest me and the other was at the opposite end, covering both exits. I wondered if they’d spot me without an alert from their bony alarm system. . . .
I didn’t dare slow the traffic flow by stopping since that would only call attention to me before I was near the train. I wished I had my hat, but without it, I’d just have to rely on another technique. I eased closer to the stair edge on the open side of the platform so I’d be as close to the train as possible when I reached the next level. By slowing just a little near the wall, I forced other passengers to flow around me, blocking me from the sight of the man at the bottom of the stairs.
The train rushed in and sighed to a stop, the doors opening on a trickle of passengers—not enough to make a good screen, but not enough to clog the cars, either. I stepped down onto the platform and walked without a glance past the man who was looking for me. He apparently wasn’t able to see my aura, so at first he didn’t notice, but I heard him shout, followed by the sound of feet and cursing as he pushed someone aside to reach me. I dodged into the nearest car and ducked into a seat by the door.
The MUA lunged into the car and paused to look for me. I dropped to the floor and he ran up the aisle as I popped back up and sat down as if nothing had happened. He stepped out of the car through the next door, looking around as if not sure how he could have missed me. He was about to turn back into the car, when his partner ran up to him and distracted him long enough for the doors to shut them out. Both men stood there, staring into the car, annoyed. I turned my back and hunched down in the corner of the seat, making myself smaller, just another brown-haired woman on the metro. . . .
I don’t know if they saw me or if they just called ahead on general principle, but I had to make several transfers and jump through a complicated change to the Red Line at Alameda station, then another change to the Blue Line at São Sebastião before I lost them. At first, I was surprised at the resources Purlis had put into bottling up the transportation hubs, but this unspeakable project was the object of his years-long ambition. He’d already tried to sacrifice thousands of innocent people in Seattle to move it forward. It appeared he’d engineered other acts of equal horror throughout Europe to keep his plans on track, so placing a few spies in transit stations wasn’t such an outrageous idea, though I knew his resources had to be limited. He seemed to have everything he needed except the right bones, though, so maybe it was a matter of putting the nonspecialists to the grunt work, even if they weren’t that well suited to it, while Rui and his cronies did the magical dirty work alone. There had to be a limit to the number of men Purlis could place in metro stations, however, and it looked as if I’d finally exceeded it.
Although I was braced for more of the MUAs at the Jardim Zoológico metro station, I didn’t see any. Maybe it was too far outside the downtown core for Purlis to cover, or bother with, since he’d located us in Alfama, which lay a good distance in the opposite direction. I hoped the lack of Men with Ugly Auras and creepy bone-based cantrips and alarms didn’t mean they were busy elsewhere, lying in wait for Quinton or Carlos.
But I’d underestimated Purlis.
I came up from the metro station on the side next to the zoo and started to the crosswalk to go under the elevated highway to the bus and train station on the other side of the road. A dark blue sedan with tinted windows pulled in awkwardly at the curb, partially blocking my path. I started around it, looking for other trouble, and had to scramble back a step as the rear door opened and Purlis unfolded himself from the backseat.
He wasn’t quick and I could have just run back down the metro stairs to elude him, but it was obvious he had agents with him—and probably a lot of others around that I hadn’t pegged because they weren’t magical or unusual in any way. He must have figured out that I could detect paranormal elements and pulled the MUAs and mages back out of the area. Ordinary spycraft was all he needed here unless I wanted to make a scene. I couldn’t be sure he didn’t have Rui, another bone mage, or even the dreamspinner in the car, since the steel and glass of an automobile make a pretty good filter for Grey effects. On the other hand, if he was wasting time with me, he wasn’t chasing Quinton or Carlos.
Purlis closed the car door and leaned on his cane, looking at me with a benign expression that sent a chill over me. “Hello, Harper. I thought we might have a little chat.”
Even with his aura going green and red as an Italian flag, he was still keeping it under tight control. He looked so much like Quinton, it was startling, though he was older and not in the best of health. His skin was an unpleasant color even in the sunshine, and the tension in his shoulders could have held up a bridge. Tiny lines of pain etched the corners of his mouth and eyes, and a faint odor of putrefaction clung to him.
“I think the last chat we had didn’t go very well. Why should we have another?” I asked, trying to devise an escape without giving him any sign of what I was thinking. The area was completely unknown to me in both the Grey and the normal and I had no idea what resources he had on hand. I needed a break. . . .
“Well, this time no one’s trying to kill anyone.” His voice was almost identical to Quinton’s, but it was flat and devoid of emotion. It made the skin at the back of my neck crawl.
“Strike one.”
“Pardon me?” he asked.
“It’s like baseball,” I said. “You get three strikes and then one of us is out of here. Every blatant lie you tell me is a strike, and you just whiffed one in a major way.”
“Will you simply walk me if I tell you some uncomfortable truths?”
“Maybe.”
“Then perhaps you’d stroll with me to the zoo.” It was like talking to Quinton’s evil doppelganger and the experience disturbed me. But turning would give me a chance to look the situation over and I could stand his disquieting presence a little longer for that.