Chapter 33
Three transfers later, my twin sense lay fallow as I plodded up to street level. Backup seemed unlikely now, but I could still trade myself for Carly. Or, if that didn’t work out as planned—because a hostage swap never did work out as planned—I could find a way to protect Carly and drag my heels while giving Grace time to tear the city apart.
Speaking of heels, my feet were once again killing me. Grace’s boots, while stylish, were applying blisters on top of my bruises.
“You’re limping, dear,” Aunt May observed through the speaker pressed against my ear. “Perhaps you should have chosen more sensible footwear.”
I lacked the strength to mind my tongue. “Do you think your informant could give me a lift then?”
After all, the faster this wild-goose chase around New York City end
