“What?!” Daven exclaimed. Whirling around.
“Yeah. What’d you do to them?”
Daven cursed and slouched down again. Maybe the police station would be his best bet after all. In many ways he could be arrested himself for stealing the blade, but then again, maybe the red tape would step in and save the day, sweeping up the precious artifact before Guilfol could claim it from the cop’s Stolen ‘n’ Found pile. He checked his pockets for his MetroCard. If he could just shake his pursuers long enough, maybe he could even call in the discovery of the hilt himself. If Guilfol’s boss hadn’t gone public with it, for the sake of his dirty dealings, then Daven could claim the discovery as his. Then he would be the only-slightly-ill-gotten, legal possessor of the sword. He could even go on tour with it, write a book, and split the earnings with the other rightful discoverers. For all that to happen, though, he’d need a friendly phone. Daven’s mobile phone’s battery was dead after weeks in the Wild. Perhaps ol’ Granby from Tectel U. would help him.
They arrived at Metro Station.
“Eighteen stars, mister,” said the cabby.
Daven was already out of the car. “Cash, cash,” he floundered, searching his pockets, “Here! Keep the change.” He dashed from the street and down into the Metro, sure he saw a black sedan screeching up to the curb behind him. Metro Station was big, and there were plenty of people in it this time of day. Daven shoved his way past a crowd of flocking teenagers and sprawled through the turnstile, barely striking a green light from the computer with his card.
Squeezing down the escalator Daven stopped under the signs directing the waves of humanity. Granby’s place was Uptown. A quick glance back up the escalator told Daven the obvious choice wasn’t the best one though: Guilfol and a goon were jumping on the moving stair. Daven dashed to the right towards the Tenth Street station. It was a long walk underground, but connected to the other station, and could still get you to the Uptown routes.
Daven hurried through the crowds of people. He passed a coastal Jeythel drum group, beating out a rhythmic tune on their steel tortoise shells. Then there was a split in the tunnel Daven didn’t remember. Another sign for Uptown pointed him to the right, which didn’t make sense, but with his pounding adrenalin, he didn’t really trust himself anyway. The long tunnel finally dropped him off in an empty platform for the extinct E Train Line. Daven cursed again and weighed his options. He would either have to go back or climb to the streets again, and try another way.
Unwrapping the cloth covering he gazed at the precious artifact in his hands. The gleaming, silver shape of a leaping cougar lay there. Daven knew from its mouth leapt the terrifying, purple energy blade. Suddenly his hands began to tingle. He recognized the feeling. It proceeded the blade’s appearance. Apparently the moon didn’t need to be visible for the lunar gravitation to work its magic. There was nothing he could do now. The street was not an option. He had to go back.
Spinning on his heal he turned back into the tunnel, and ran directly into Guilfol’s goon.