"Does the sun ever shine here?"
"Sometimes," Kaldar said. "If you wait for a few hours and squint just right."
In the backseat, George shifted around. They both wore plain brown shirts and loose pants. They still didn't look like they belonged in the Broken, but at least it was an improvement over George's poofy shirts, Jack decided.
His side ached. He discreetly rubbed his bruised ribs. Gaston had been less than happy to find out that the two of them had taken off into the Broken and gotten themselves caught by Kaldar. Words like "morons," "spoiled babies," and "made me look like a total imbecile" had been said. And then words turned into punches. To be fair, he did throw the first one, Jack reflected. But there was only so much baby name-calling one could take. He and George had double-teamed Gaston, but Gaston was strong like a bull. Still, he hadn't won by much. It was fine now. They had made peace. He'd just have to be careful with the ribs for a couple of days.
Jack had left the little cat with Gaston. It had taken them a few hours to fly to Washington, and they spent the night in the Edge. Until they'd crossed back over to the Broken, Jack had carried the little cat around in a basket he'd found in the wyvern's cabin. The cat drank but didn't eat. That was usually a bad sign.
Gaston would take good care of it. He'd stayed behind to watch over the wyvern, and he promised he would check on the little cat. Of course he would.
"Where are we going?" George asked.
"We're looking for a thrift store. Anything would do. Goodwill, Salvation Army . . ."
"Salvation Army?" Jack perked up. "Crusaders?"
"No, not that Salvation Army," Kaldar said. "A secondhand clothing store."
"What's that?"
"You've been rich for too long." The thief sighed. "Does Rose do any charity work?"
"She gives alms to the poor," George said.
"How does that work?"
"We ride up to the Helping Hand building," Jack said. "We get out and carry the food crates inside. Rose talks to the people in there. They look at accounts for a while. She gives them money. We go home."
"Okay." Kaldar nodded. "A secondhand store is like Helping Hand: it's a store that raises money for the poor. In the Broken, they are usually attached to houses of religion."
"Churches," George said.
"Among others. People bring in clothes and furniture they no longer need and donate them. The stores sell them and use the money to feed the poor."
Jack frowned. "Why would you want to wear clothes somebody else had worn?" The scent alone would drive him mad.
"Because you can't afford anything else," George said quietly. "Rose used to shop at the secondhand store."
"I never got clothes that somebody else wore," Jack said. "I would've known."
"Not for us, you dolt. She shopped for herself. You don't remember because you were seven."
Jack bared his teeth. "I remember just fine."
"Another word, and it's back to Adrianglia for both of you," Kaldar said. His mouth smiled, but his eyes were dead serious.
Jack turned around and shut up.
"A thrift shop is the place where people shop when they don't have money or when they're looking for a bargain. Men of doubtful legality, such as ourselves, shop there for three reasons. First, the clothes will be clean, but they'll look worn, which is what we need. Fresh-off-the-rack stuff draws attention, and that must be avoided at all costs. The idea is to blend in. Be one of the guys. Second, the regular stores have surveillance cameras. They record your image, which means someone can track you down. For the same reason, we will stay away from any shop that has a camera in the window, TV screens, electronics, convenience stores, ATMs . . ."
"What are those?" Jack asked.
"Small automated banks that give out money."
"Why doesn't anyone steal the banks?" Jack asked.
"They are very, very heavy."
Jack grinned. "You tried?"
"Yes, and I don't recommend it. You need a sturdy truck with a wheelchair lift and a dolly. A rental truck with a ramp is good, too. And that's if said ATM isn't bolted to the ground. Anyway, we want to find a thrift shop like that one, for instance." Kaldar made a left and parked in front of a plain concrete building. The sign above the door said MISSION STORE.
"When we go in, keep your heads down. Don't stare at anyone, don't make eye contact, and shuffle a little. This is the third reason to shop here: people who work in these stores are either kindhearted or recovering from their former life: ex-addicts, ex-drunks, ex-homeless. They know what it's like to be on the wrong side of the poverty line. All they will see is a man down on his luck trying to find his sons some clothes. They take cash and don't look too closely at the faces. If cops come asking, they won't remember seeing you. Remember: heads down, think humble, and don't draw attention. Jack, no getting excited and running down the aisle like a damn idiot because you saw a cat or a mouse or some such. George, try to remember what it's like to be poor. One sneer, and I'll tan both of your hides. This is your test, boys."
Kaldar got out of the car. Jack followed. Humble, right. He could do that.
Thirty minutes later, they were on the road again. Jack sniffed at his new clothes. His faded black hoodie smelled of one brand of soap, his jeans of another. At least Kaldar let him keep his own boots. In the backseat, George wore a gray hoodie with a pocket in front and ripped jeans that needed to be thrown away. Kaldar had also bought him a used skateboard, a plank of wood on four wheels.
George caught him looking. "What?"
"You look ridiculous," Jack told him.
"This from a guy who strips naked and runs around in the woods."
"I'm not ashamed of my human or my lynx form. I wear clothes because people force me to. I don't need to put on a costume every morning to feel better about myself."
"That's right. You're a simple creature, aren't you?"
"Simple" in the human world usually meant "stupid." Jack grinned. "Why don't you lean closer, so I can explain to you exactly how simple I am."
"So help me Gods, I will turn this car around," Kaldar said. His face was relaxed, but his stare had gained a sharp, dangerous edge. Not good.
"You're different," Jack told him.
"Different how?"
"You're a lot more easygoing when you come to visit Cerise."
"That's because when I visit Cerise, I'm her funny, charming, favorite cousin. The hardest challenge I face there is how much I can annoy my dear cousin-in-law before he turns into a wolf and tries to rip my throat out. Right now, I'm an agent of the Mirror, saddled with two children, which means if someone jumps out in front of this car and tries to kill you, I will shoot him through the heart before he has a chance to blink."