Rune came to her feet. “Aren’t you a day early?”

“Yeah, we packed up the Ren Fest real fast, didn’t have another gig, so we came on up. Man, that highway is a bugger.” The man looked Rune over from top to toe. “Sorry, ma’am. I’m Eric. You look like a fortune-teller.”

“I am.”

“Ooh, Candy!” one of the Shivering Sherlocks said brightly to another, “that’s Madame Rune. She organized the raffle. She’s going to tell our fortunes!”

“Hey, Madame Rune,” Eric said. “Our fortune-teller for Ren Fest found her fortune in federal prison. Embezzled from one of her clients. If you need a job—”

“I’ll let you know after the festival is over.” Rune walked toward the door. “I may need a new job then.”

“Don’t worry,” Mrs. Kulshan said to Elle. “She always says that before festival weekend, then she rises to the occasion.”

Señor Alfonso clapped his hands. “All right. Enough fear. We have the Shivering Sherlocks, and it sounds as if very soon, the sheriff’s department will be here and need to be fed. Clear a table for interviews, and anyone who actually saw the shooter gets to talk to the cops first. Let’s go, let’s go!”

People scattered, and Adam and Elle sat down to wait for their chance to talk to the police...and tell them as little as possible.

36

AS SOON AS ELLE and Adam walked into his house, she asked, “Where’s the antibiotic?”

He started toward the bedroom.

She put her hand on his arm. “Sit down. I’ll get it. Tell me where.”

“The roles are reversed.” He laughed a little and sank onto the love seat. “In the bedroom, in the closet, on the shelf to the left, in a black backpack. It has everything we need.”

“Provided you don’t get an infection.” Now that the immediate crisis was over, she felt a mite snappish. “You have to promise me that if things take a turn for the worst—”

“I know. You want me to promise the same thing you promised me. Yes, if the wound gets infected or I develop a fever, I will go to the hospital. Although, like you, I know that explaining what happened will be complicated.”

“Right.” In the bedroom, she grunted when she pulled the backpack off the shelf: it was heavy, laden, she was sure, with everything Adam needed to survive an evacuation, an illness, an attack, any eventuality. When she came back to the living room, he had removed his holster and placed it on the table beside the lamp. He sat very still with his eyes closed, taking slow, deep breaths.

When he heard her, he opened his eyes.

“Meditative pain relief?” she asked.

He nodded and extended his right hand.

She put the backpack on the floor out of his reach. “Tell me what I’m looking for.”