Sunlight filtered through the faded curtains of the store-front windows and woke Antoinette. She sat up, yawning and stretching. Then she stared with sleep-mazed confusion at the blanket lying crumpled in her lap.
Tracker lay on his stomach, only his tail moving slowly side to side. “Good morning, Miss Duval,” he said gently.
She froze in shock, then sprang to her feet and stared wildly about. She gave a choked sob when she saw Scott and Tracker, then shook her head and raised her hands as if to fend them off.
”Non. Mon Dieu, non!” she whispered as she backed away.
”Don’t be afraid,” Scott urged. “We want to be your friends.”
She gave a bitter, hopeless laugh. “Eh, bien! And that is why you kidnapped me, took me far away, kept me locked up in my mind while you tried to persuade me to join you and, when I refused, you let him hurt me.” Her hands clenched. “I will die, oui, but I will serve you, never!” She spoke with a strong French accent, her voice filled with cornered defiance.
Scott shook his head. “That wasn’t us. We’ve never seen you before yesterday.”
She made a jerky, dismissive motion with her hand. “You, your friends, what difference to me? I do not want to hurt anyone, but I will not allow you to take me back. I will let the beast out first.”
”We don’t want to hurt you, either,” Tracker said.
Scott nodded in agreement. “That’s right. All we want to do is keep you and anyone else from being hurt, if we can.”
”And you will do that by kidnapping me again,” she said bitterly.
”No,” Scott shook his head again. “It wasn’t any of us! A group we know of as Snake kidnapped you, the ones we drove off yesterday.”
”And who are you, if you are not with them?”
”We’re the Defenders. We’re associated with FORCE. We’re dedicated to helping others, enforcing the laws, stopping criminals like Snake. We would like you to come with us, but we won’t force you to.”
Tracker nodded. “That’s true. Before yesterday, none of us knew of you. Now I… we want to help you.”
”If you want to help me, then let me go!” she said, her voice tight. She held herself under rigid control.
”I wish you would stay. But if that’s what you want, you are free to go,” Scott replied.
”Captain?” he paged, turning on his radio. “Please move the hovervan and tell the police roadblocks to let the woman who comes out pass.”
With a soft hush of displaced air, the van rose and slid away across the street.
”You’re free to go,” Scott said. “Though I wish you’d stay.”
She snatched up the blanket and backed away, her eyes fixed on them. She reached the open door and glanced outside. Her thigh muscles tensed.
Then her self-control broke.
”Where is there to run to?” she whispered as her shoulders slumped. She covered her face with her hands and crumpled to the floor, sobbing.
Scott went to the door, blocking her from view as he did. He picked up the blanket and wrapped it around her, holding her as she cried.
Tracker crouched in front of her. Laying his hand lightly on her arm, he assured her. “It’s all right, MS Duval. It’s all over now.”
After several minutes, her weeping subsided. She lifted her tear-streaked face to look at them. “I do not understand what is happening to me. I do not know who they are. I do not know who you are,” she continued, gesturing at Scott and Tracker. “But they would not have let me go, and you would have. Alone, I can not escape them, and I will not join them. I will go with you.” She stood up and pulled the blanket more tightly around her body.
”Would you like to go back to your room first?” Scott asked.
”Oui, s’il vous plait,” she said.
The other Defenders gathered around as they walked down the sidewalk towards the Chestnut Street Rooming House, the hovervan keeping pace several yards behind. She studied them with wide, uncertain eyes. Spotting Jay as he cruised overhead, she tensed. “You!” she gasped. “You are the one who shot at me last night.”
Jay raised his hands apologetically, hovering about 20 feet away. “Sorry. Just wanted to catch you, not hurt you.”
”We knew nothing about you then,” Scott added. “We were afraid you might hurt someone.”
The explanation seemed to satisfy her as some of the tension in her muscles eased.
They continued into the rooming house and up the stairs, Tracker leading the way. Reaching the second floor landing, Tracker pushed open the door to her room. The broken lock rattled loosely against the shattered jamb. She looked around at the mess with a small frown. Letting the blanket slide to the floor, she opened the closet and pulled out a worn canvas duffle bag. The scent of male hormones reached Tracker’s nose as Red watched watched her, openly fascinated. She picked up her scattered clothes, folded and packed her belongings. She picked up a battered wallet and looked inside, then frowned.
”Did they take something?” Scott asked.
She shrugged. “I had saved twenty-three hundred dollars, and it is gone. It is of no great matter.” She dropped the wallet into the duffle bag.
She turned to the corner where the ruined guitar lay, and froze. With a choked sob, she dropped to her knees beside it and ran the tip of one finger along its neck. She turned to the others and her eyes spilled over with angry tears. “Chantre is dead! For this, they will pay!” She placed the pieces of the smashed instrument carefully in the guitar case and latched it closed. She picked up the case and the duffle bag, then turned to the door. Then she stopped. “Sacre!” she muttered. She opened the duffle bag and extracted a halter-top and a wraparound skirt. Putting them on, she again picked up the case and bag. “Now, I think, I am ready to go.”
Returning to the hovervan, Tracker climbed in first and moved up behind the driver’s seat, a heavy wire mesh separating the front seats from the back. Scott motioned for the girl to enter next, following her while Red and Jay climbed in last, taking seats opposite the three. Captain Jones gunned the engine, spinning the van in place to head back to base when Scott spoke up. “Captain, stop by the Nightbirds. Let’s get Antoinette the paycheck they’re holding for her.”
Twenty minutes later, the van slid down the highway headed out of town. Antoinette sat on the bench silently, looking out the windows. Beside her, Tracker’s tail lay against her thigh, hanging over the edge of the bench. She ran her fingers through the thick plush of Tracker’s tail and pulled it onto her lap. Tracker tensed at the unexpected touch, then relaxed with a conscious effort. Her fear and uncertainty added to the other scents in the close quarters, but faded quickly after taking his tail into her hands. Strangely, it seemed to give him an obscure pride that he could help calm her by such a small sacrifice.
Once out of town and on the open road, Scott introduced the others and gave her a friendly grin. “Why don’t you tell us something about yourself. Where do you come from? How did you end up here?”
Antoinette shivered as she remembered the beginning of her nightmares. “I am a drifter, wandering from place to place. I am a singer and a dancer. I was heading south into Florida when the dreams began again.”
