Seconds passed. He was still alive. He mustered his courage and peeked over Kim’s shoulder.
They were heading south in the long turn around the provincial Parliament, accelerating smoothly. Brendan couldn’t believe how fast they were going. He noticed something else. Usually, Kim’s scooter had the high-pitched whine shared by all vehicles with small engines, but as they zipped along, Brendan realized he wasn’t hearing that sound. Instead, emanating from the engine was a low, harmonic hum that shifted through a spectrum of sound depending on their speed. It almost sounded like a choir of tiny voices. He looked down and saw that where he had assumed the scooter was built of metal and plastic, it was actually an amalgam of different woods, skilfully carved with strange symbols up and down its chassis. The saddle was beautifully tooled leather, the pattern a series of swirling lines chasing each other across the surface. The scooter’s lines were sleek and perfectly harmonious. It was more like an animal than a machine.
“I thought this was a gas scooter,” Brendan shouted over the wind. “What does it run on?”
“Trapped zephyrs,” 55 Kim called back.
“Trapped what? Yaaaaaaah!” Brendan screamed as they approached an intersection, weaving through the cars stopped at the red light.
Kim ignored Brendan’s cries of panic. She gunned the motor as she timed their approach to the intersection of College and University perfectly, the light winking green as she sailed through. They flashed down the wide boulevard, weaving through the cars.
Brendan opened his eyes, surprised that he wasn’t dead. The wind ruffled his hair. He relaxed his grip ever so slightly. “Where are we going?” Brendan asked. He was not entirely over his initial fear but was starting to enjoy the ride. A little. The speed of their passage and the beautiful hum of the engine’s song were exhilarating.
“Someplace safe,” Kim said dismissively.
“Why don’t we go to my house.” His father might be at home. Maybe they could get him to help, call the police.
“No way.”
“Why not?”
“Orcadia knows where you live. She’s already been sniffing around there. If you go back there, you’ll put your family in danger.”
Brendan hadn’t thought of that. Orcadia had been the mysterious relative his mother had talked to last night. He shivered at the thought. His mother had no idea what danger she’d been in. He decided, whatever happened, he’d try to keep these weirdos as far away from his family as possible. “Then where are we going? To the police?”
“The police? Ha! They can’t help us.” Kim shook her head. “No, we’re going to a place I know. It’s a safe place, neutral ground, a meeting place called the Swan of Liir.”
“Never heard of it.”
“You wouldn’t have. It’s for Fair Folk only.”
“What if we get separated? How will I find it?”
“If we get separated, you’ll never find it. No one can find it on their own. You have to be shown the way.”
“But if something happens to you…”
“Nothing’s going to happen to me.”
“But what if it does?” Brendan insisted.
“Will you quit whining? If anything happened to me, well then, you’ll probably die,” Kim snarled. Brendan’s mouth snapped shut. “But nothing is going to happen to me, so shut up and let me drive. I have to concentrate, and I can’t do that with you whining in my ear.”
The sudden wail of a siren cut off their conversation. Brendan looked back over his shoulder and saw a police cruiser pull out from a side street. The red and blue lights on the roof of the car were flashing and the siren screamed. There were two officers in the car, one female constable driving and the other, a man, speaking into his radio. They didn’t look happy.
“We should pull over,” Brendan suggested. He had never been in trouble with the police and he didn’t want to start now.
Kim laughed. “Not today.” She glanced up at the swath of sky visible between the tall buildings. Brendan looked up and saw purple clouds spreading south, almost as if they were following the scooter’s progress. “Uh-oh. Looks like Greenleaf couldn’t hold her. We have to get to safe ground. She’s coming for us.”
“Why does she want me? Is she really my aunt? Where’s my father? My mother?”
“Do you ever stop asking questions? Just shut up. Everything will be explained to you when we get to the Swan,” she barked. “Try to relax!”
“Relax? I’m attacked by some crazy woman. I can talk to squirrels and birds! People are trying to kill me! You’ve basically kidnapped me and I’m supposed to relax!” Brendan’s voice cracked. He was about to lose it.
“Like I said,” Kim repeated, “everything will be explained when we get to the Swan. If we don’t get to the Swan, it won’t matter.”
“Is it far?”
Kim looked up at the darkening sky. “Far enough. Just zip it and hold on! I’ve gotta shake the fuzz.”
Kim continued her swerving route down University Avenue. The scooter slalomed from lane to lane, barely missing vehicles on either side. The police were hampered by the traffic but the siren was clearing the way as motorists pulled over to allow the cruiser through. The police were slowly gaining ground.
“Pull over to the curb immediately!” A policeman’s voice was amplified through the public address speaker on top of the cruiser.
“Maybe we should stop now!” Brendan said hopefully.
“Do you always do whatever you’re told?” Kim laughed.
“When it’s the police telling me, yes!”
Brendan felt sure that Kim would slow now. Up ahead, the light at Queen Street turned red. Cars streamed across their path in a thick flow. They would certainly be killed if they tried to cut across. The scooter did slow slightly as Kim scanned for a way through.
In front of them, a fist of lightning slammed into a Mercedes convertible that was just few metres ahead. The car sizzled as the rainwater turned to steam and its paint crackled. The stricken vehicle swerved, smashing sideways into a van. The crunch of metal and the smell of scorched rubber stung Brendan’s nostrils.
“She’s here!” Kim shouted. “Time for an alternative route.”
She angled the scooter to the right, aiming it at the sidewalk. They bumped over the curb, Brendan almost being jarred loose, and fishtailed through a group of pedestrians, narrowly avoiding a collision with a sausage vendor’s cart. People shouted in anger and shook their fists.
“Sorry!” Brendan called.
The police cruiser screeched to a halt at the curb. A female officer leapt out and began to run after them while the other went to investigate the accident caused by the lightning strike.
“Halt!” the female cop shouted.
Kim ignored the command. Swerving across the sidewalk, she jumped the curb again, shooting across the intersection diagonally.
“Oh sweet Christmas!” Brendan shrieked.
“Yee-haw!” Kim crowed.
They had almost made it to the other side of the intersection when a transport truck turned in front of them. The broad side of the van loomed, a mass of wheels with a flatbed laden with coiled wire for some construction site.
“Hang on!” Kim cried as if there was an alternative.
The scooter tilted. She turned side on to the truck, and they slid along the pavement, the dark, greasy underside of the truck bed passing above them. At that instant, lightning struck the coiled wire on the bed of the truck. The impact was followed by a shower of sparks that curtained over them as they slid out the other side of the truck. The shock wave that followed deafened Brendan for a moment, but amazingly the two of them were still on the scooter.
Kim thrust her leg against the pavement and threw them upright again. She gunned the motor, and the scooter zoomed along the curb down Queen Street. They had left behind them a wake of swerving cars. The traffic was snarled in the intersection.