“Well, I couldn’t say for certain, but...yeah, I’m pretty damn sure,” he said. “They got in about ten last night, looking dead to the world; then this morning they asked the manager to have the room for another night. They’re still in there now. Been there all day, as far as I know.”

Fear clutched my throat. At least he didn’t realize Alex had left for a while, to go buy the hair dye and scissors. I swooped down and landed; under my ethereal feet the carpet felt strange, insubstantial. Back in the motel room my human form still sat on the bed, with Alex’s fingers linked tightly through mine.

“They’re supposed to come down and pay for the extra night soon; you want I should hold them for you? Oh, okay...yeah, I see...”

Behind the desk, another clerk stood waiting with wide eyes. When the man hung up the phone, she said, “Well?”

“She said not to go near them; they’re sending someone right out. There’s a squad car coming now – it’s just a few blocks away.” He shook his head. “Man, wouldn’t it be wild if it was them? Dangerous fugitives, holed up in a sleepy little place like Trinidad—”

I didn’t hear the rest; I was already speeding back to our room in a flurry of wings. I found my human self again; merged. My eyes flew open. “The desk clerk from last night – he’s recognized us,” I burst out. “The police are on their way.”

Alex swore as he lunged off the bed. “Okay, forget staying – we’ve got to get out of here, now.” He undid his jeans to strap on his holster and pistol under his waistband; when they were securely hidden, he ducked into the bathroom and grabbed up the eye pencil and hair dye stuff, shoving it all in the shopping bag it had come in, along with the long strands of my hair that had fallen to the floor. He swiped a motel washcloth over all the surfaces, removing any sign of the dye, and stuffed that in the bag too.

Trying to stay calm, I fumbled for the black pumps that were the only shoes I had now. Then I heard what was being said on TV, and glanced up. My hands slowed and stilled.

“...a dramatic new development which has just been released from law enforcement officials in Pawntucket, New York. This was the scene last night on Nesbit Street, at the former home of suspected terrorist Willow Fields...”

Aunt Jo’s house appeared on the screen. I heard a ragged gasp; realized from someplace far away it had come from me. I sat frozen, my mind unable to process what I was seeing.

The house where I had lived since I was nine years old was in flames.