Esmerelda carries Harry

The eyes rushed toward me, and something dark and strong struck me across the jaw. I was already close to losing consciousness. The blow was enough to ring my bells thoroughly.
I was aware of being picked up and tossed over someone's shoulder. Then there was a lot of rapid, sickening motion. It went on long enough for me to throw up. I didn't have enough energy to aim at my abductor.
A subjective eternity later, I was thrown to the ground. I lay still, hoping to fool my captor into thinking I was barely conscious and weak as a kitten. Which should be easy, since I was. I've never really had much ambition as a performer.
"We don't like it," said a woman's voice. "Its Power smells foul."
"We must be patient," replied a man's voice. "It could be a great asset."
“It is listening to us," the woman said.
"We know that," replied the man.
I heard soft footsteps, cushioned by pine needles, and the woman spoke again, more slowly and lower. She sounded . . . hungry. "Poor thing. So battered. We should give it a kiss and let it sleep. It would be merciful. And He would be pleased with us."
"No, our love. He would be satisfied with us. There is a difference."
"Have we not come to understand this simple fact?" she shot back, acid in her voice. "Never will He name us to the Circle, no matter how many prizes we bring into the Court. We are interlopers. We are not of the first Maya."
"Many things can change in the span of eternity, our love. We will be patient."
"You mean that He might fall?" She let out a rather disconcerting giggle. "Then why aren't we currying favor with Arianna?"
"We shall not even consider it," he replied, his voice hard. "Should we even think of it too often, He might know. He might act. Do we understand?"
"We do," she said, her tone petulant.
Then someone grabbed my shoulder in iron-strong fingers and flipped me onto my back. The dark shapes of trees spun above me, nothing more than black outlines against the lights of Chicago reflecting from the overcast.
There was barely enough light to let me see the pale, delicate features of a tiny woman no larger than a child. Seriously, she might have been four-foot-six, though her proportions seemed identical to those of any adult. She had very pale skin with a light dusting of freckles, and looked as if she might be nineteen years old. Her hair was light brown and very straight. Her eyes were extremely odd-looking. One was pale, icy blue, the other deep, dark green, and I had an immediate instinct that whatever creature lurking behind those mismatched eyes was not a rational being.


Changes Chapter 26, Page 243