Once Dead, Twice Shy (Madison Avery Trilogy #1)(28)
Author: Kim Harrison

Grace zipped from one end of the cab to the other. "Follow the yellow balloons!"

I sighed, and my camera felt heavy on my chest. "Grace, you’re evil," I whispered.

"This stuff is easy," she said smugly. Apparently I’d been forgiven, since she sat on my shoulder and made my ears ring with the vibration from her wings.

Josh eyed the parked cars as we passed, and sighed. "We can’t fight Kairos here."

Grace giggled, and I made a face. "Nope," I said. "I don’t think we can leave, either."

From my shoulder, Grace said, "If you try, you’re going to get a flat tire, Joshua."

Joshua, I thought, curious. "Don’t try to leave," I said as we neared the exit. "You’ll get a flat. Miss Limerick here doesn’t want us getting into any trouble." Puppy presents, maybe we could walk out of here. Grace wouldn’t make one of us break a leg or something, would she?

"Limerick?" Josh asked, and I shook my head.

"You really don’t want to know." Yeah, Grace would probably break something, laughing all the way.

He was concentrating on the parking lot, and I gripped the door handle when we went onto the grass and lurched in the ruts, following the cant-wise line of cars to the end until we parked in the shade of a spreading oak. The sound of our doors shutting seemed to echo as a handful of other people parked and got out of their vehicles. Josh had his gym bag with him, and my camera bag was over my shoulder. The air was crisp and cool under the tree, and I could sense the excitement as people slowly migrated from their cars to the open field. It had been a long, miserable night watching Josh’s house, but the fact that I was sort of see-through had me worried about going invisible again so soon. I could put Kairos off for a few hours. Take a few pictures. Not be so much of a liar.

"Grace, you stay with Josh. Please," I added belatedly as the glowing ball of light that was her wings took on a harsh hue. "He can’t do his event with me running beside him."

Her wings darkened to almost nothing, and a subdued «okay» came out of her.

I didn’t trust her show of meekness, and we slowly wove through the parked cars to the field. Halfway there I brought my camera up and snapped a picture of a child, awe on his face as he touched a clown’s nose. A smile came over me as I looked at it in the viewer. The sky was a brilliant blue, and the clown’s makeup was stark and perfect. Bright and bold.

"Good day for a run," Josh said slowly.

I nodded, feeling the air in my lungs. "I suppose we can do this awhile," I said, not wanting a meteor to drop on me if I tried to leave.

"I pledged to run a couple of laps," he said. "I can’t collect the money otherwise."

Seeing his desire to run, I shifted my bag higher up my shoulder. It was heavy with my promise. Kairos could wait a couple of hours as long as Grace was watching Josh. "So, see you about noon?" I said as I made motions to head off to the green tent.

Josh smiled, the sun in his hair. "Watch out for Amy."

I smirked. It took skill to take a good picture. It took more to take a bad one. "You bet."

He nodded and turned. I waited a moment to be sure Grace went with him, then headed for the green tent and Ms. Cartwright.

CHAPTER 8

The wind shifted the purple tips of my hair in front of the camera, and I waited until it cleared. I slowly followed Josh’s loping body around the track, zooming in as he rounded the turn and I could see his face. He breathed in, and I snapped the shot, immediately moving the camera from my eye to see what I’d captured in the viewing screen.

I couldn’t help my smile. He looked suitably tortured, eyes pinched and mouth open. Sweat made his hair stick to his forehead. Behind him were the blurry and colorful shapes of the other runners. In the foreground was a hazy ball of light anyone else would say was a camera artifact, but I knew it was Grace. Josh would be glad to see some evidence of her.

The sound of running feet pulled my attention up. "Looking good, Josh!" I shouted, and I got a quick wave in return. He wasn’t as tired as the picture indicated. And it wasn’t a race. The track team was simply making sure someone was on the field at all times, sort of a daylong marathon. At the outside of the track was a much slower-moving group of nonathletes. It was as much a social event as anything else, and I could hear the ladies talking about their kids as they power walked, earning dollars per lap to help buy a new activity bus.

I raised my camera and got a shot when one of the women laughed, catching her in a moment of happiness. Their participant badges were clearly visible, and I toyed with the idea of showing it to Ms. Cartwright to see if she wanted to use it in next year’s promotion.

Turning, I spotted Covington High’s girls’ track team stretching under the shade of the birch trees. Colorful gym bags littered the grass, and I took a few shots, making sure Amy was not looking her best. Zooming in, I focused on the bandage over her purple nose, bruised and swollen, thanks to Grace, and with a grin, I took a really bad one with her mouth hanging open.

"Never tick off the photographer," I whispered, feeling good about catching her in more than one awkward, unflattering pose.

I’d been taking pictures now for about three hours and I was starting to get tired, even as my long-fallow photography muscles enjoyed the workout. The camera card I’d bought yesterday had been a godsend. I’d already filled it up once, taking time to dump everything into the printer before clearing it out and going back in search of more timely moments.

"Like that one," I whispered when I saw a man holding his child close and high to his face. He was pointing to one of the walkers on the field, and the baby, a girl by the looks of the bow and frills, was following his gaze. The man’s face glowed as he talked to his daughter. Behind them was a stroller with a huge diaper bag shoved under it and a handful of toys tied to the front bar.

I took a picture of the stroller just because I thought it was cool that something so small needed so much stuff, then focused on the man and his child, waiting until the little girl recognized to whom he was pointing and made a delighted, wiggling gurgle. I snapped it, and the man turned as the camera whined.

I smiled, checking to make sure the ID tag Ms. Cartwright had given me was showing. "I’m taking photos to support the school," I said for the umpteenth time today. "Would you like me to print this for you? I can have it ready in about an hour."

His suspicion evaporated, turning into delight when I extended the back of the camera for him to see. "I didn’t even know you were there," he said, jiggling the girl. "That is beautiful. How much?" He shifted his child to reach into his back pocket, and I waved my hand no.