The diners remained seated around the table, intrigued by Thuy’s antics, and perhaps unwilling to abandon their food. The low burble of the three children’s laughter became audible as Thuy took a frantic slurp from a bathtub-sized glass of thin-tasting cola. One of the women was frowning and her arm was arcing ever so slowly toward Thuy’s head. Thuy stepped out of reach while loading some giant beans onto a tortilla the size of a pillow case. She strolled to the table’s edge, gobbled the wrapped-up beans, called out a thank you, and hopped down to the crushed-shell patio.

Looking into the Hibraners’ minds, Thuy could see that, for them, she was moving in a rapid blur. Her thank you had sounded like a shrill chirp. So now she sent the thanks telepathically and regarded the reactions.

The man’s image of Thuy was tinged with hellfire; he was wondering if she were a demon. One of the girls was seeing Thuy as a cute doll; she was visualizing Thuy perched on a silky pillow in her room. The woman who’d tried to smack Thuy saw her as a pest like a weasel or a rat. The other woman regarded Thuy as a magical agent of good luck and was imagining trapping Thuy under a bucket-shaped shell that sat by the wall. As for the boy—he was simply marveling at how fast Thuy moved. A voice came at her, speaking clearly and at the proper speed.

“Thuy,” said the voice in her head. “Get out of here fast. Crabby old Gladax is coming for you.” Accompanying the voice was a brief image of a bearded young guy with a stocking-wrapped topknot. Azaroth.

“Where do I run to?” messaged Thuy. “Can I find Ond?”

“Teleport to our version of San Francisco,” said the voice. “The sidewalk by the spot where you Lobraners have that storefront church.”

Thuy focused on the mindscape location Azaroth was showing her. She saw a wet winter morning on a busy street, with little lights glowing in the window of a secondhand clothes store where El Santo de Israel had stood. A kind of auto repair shop stood next door. The buildings looked somehow like plants or like wasp nests. “Won’t Gladax follow me there too?” worried Thuy.

“There’s a vibby way to fool a telepathic snoop,” messaged Azaroth. “It’s like acting. You warp your self-image. Like how I made myself look like a moai when you and Jayjay were waking up? I’ll show you how. Oh, oh, look out!”

Thuy jumped to one side as a rubber net descended rather slowly upon the spot where she’d been standing. The woman holding it was indeed Gladax, narrow-eyed in concentration. She wore dirty green sweatpants and a cheap T-shirt with a smeared dragon print.