Chapter 23
It takes three random civilians before we find someone who can tell us where to find Crazy Harry.
The answer leads us to a small park on the outskirts of town. An old rusted swing set, a scorching metal slide, and a precarious-looking wooden seesaw sit just beyond the park sign. A small group of young evergreens huddle around a man-made pond, where a lone figure stands tossing bread on the ground. Two ducks and three squirrels dart around the sparse grass at his feet, snatching up pieces as soon as they hit the dirt.
We approach the old guy together. The three shifters flank me as if they’re afraid to let me get too close to Crazy Harry without them there to buffer. It’s another strangely possessive gesture that makes me feel like I don’t know what twilight zone I’m living in.
We stop a few feet to the old guy’s left, on the banks of the pond. He’s a grizzled old man with a giant nose covered in broken blood vessels and a beard that forms a point over his skinny, sunken chest. He’s wearing an electric yellow tank top and ragged looking pants. No shoes.
“Excuse me,” I say before one of the guys can speak and scare him off, “are you Harry?”
A bushy gray brow arches over his wrinkled eye, but he doesn’t look away from feeding the squirrels. “Maybe. Who’s asking?”
I exchange glances with Malix, then step ahead of the others. “My name’s Amora. I’m seeking the location of something that I think you might know.”
Crazy Harry rips the last piece of crust into three pieces and lets them drift to the ground.
After the silence drags on for far too long, Frost speaks up. “White bread in large amounts can be unhealthy for ducks.”
I jerk around to glare at him. If his head full of useless knowledge scares off our only lead, he won’t need to worry about the poison. I’ll kill him anyway.
Crazy Harry finally looks over at us, that eyebrow still arched—only now, it’s aimed at Frost. “Look around you, kid. We’re in the goddamn desert. Some days, these animals don’t get food unless I bring it. Some days, I bring frozen peas. Some days, I bring a bag of birdseed from the Wal-Mart. And some days, I have old crusty bread. And these sons of bitches appreciate anything they get.”
I try, unsuccessfully, to hide a smile. The crazy guy just dressed down Frost like he’s a damn college professor.
Frost inclines his head. “Point taken.”
Crazy Harry shoves his hands in the pockets of his pants and levels his gaze on me. His eyes are a surprisingly pale blue, and they pierce right through me, like he can see inside me. Now that I’m getting a better look at him, he appears a little younger than I guessed at before, though his outfit still makes him look a bit like a California surfer boy gone to seed in his New Mexico retirement.
“Shifters, huh?” he says, his gaze darting between the four of us. “We don’t see your kind around here often.”
Kian reacts immediately, stepping toward the old man with his fists clenched. I throw an arm out to stop him. I’m surprised as hell that the old man can tell what we are too, but that doesn’t mean he needs to be beat up or silenced. We want someone who’s got their ear to the ground, supernaturally speaking, so this is a good thing.
“How did you know?” I ask.
Crazy Harry shrugs, then leans down to pet one of the squirrels between its little pointy, tufted ears. “I know a lot of things.” When he straightens again, there’s just the hint of fear in his pale gaze. “Are you going to hurt me?”
“No,” I say, giving Kian a pointed look. I drop my arm away from the feral shifter’s chest and step bodily in front of him before he can terrify our informant into running. “Harry, are you familiar with the Tree of Life?”
The old man’s eyes widen. “I am. Most people don’t think it’s real.”
“We know it’s real,” I assure him. “We just need to know how to find it. Do you know where it is?”
He offers me a yellowing grin. “Sure do.”
“Could you tell us?”
He glances at the feral shifters again, then back at me. “What’s in it for me?”
Kian growls and takes another step forward, but I throw out an arm to block him.
“What do you want?” I ask Harry.
“Your panties,” he says, a twinkle in his eye. That twinkle tells me he’s absolutely baiting the three large shifters, who he must think are my boyfriends and/or protectors.
/>
A tidal wave of fury rises up in the air around me as all three feral shifters snarl at the crazy old man and lunge for him.