Pale Demon. Kim Harrison

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СКАЧАТЬ Trent reached for the dash, glaring at me. I couldn’t believe they’d tried to take us out on the interstate! I’d been under death threats before, but there were niceties to be observed, union rules. This wasn’t them!

      Silent, Trent folded up the map, tucking it away with precise motions. He looked calm, but I was starting to shake. “Nicely done,” he said and I almost lost it, my hands clenching the wheel until my knuckles were white. Nicely done? There were people hurt back there, and I felt a sudden surge of panic as three ambulances went by, headed for the interstate. Everyone in that VW bug was probably dead. And the truck driver. And the four cars behind him. The guy in the Jag was probably okay. Probably.

      My foot started to jiggle, and when the light turned green, I crept up on the car ahead of us, pushing it into moving. I wanted out of the car, like now.

      Jenks flew to the rearview mirror when Trent rolled his window all the way down to get rid of the scent of cinnamon and wine, and something in me eased as I turned right onto Memorial. He was shaken and trying not to show it. More sirens wailed, and Jenks landed on the steering wheel, giving me a worried look as a fire truck went by, headed for the on-ramp. People were hurt. Because of me? Trent? Did it matter?

      “We’re going to stop, right?” Trent asked, his eyes on Riverside Park as we passed it.

      “Why? Think you’ll get a better view of the accidents from up on top of the arch?” I asked sarcastically. This was way more than I’d expected when I agreed to escort him to the coast, and I was long past wishing I’d told him to shove his little problem and taken my chances by myself. My foot was shaking as I stopped at another light. The church was right next to us, and in a split-second decision, I turned the blinker on.

      “Okay,” I said as I glanced behind us at the flashing lights on the interstate. “We’re ditching the car. Get your stuff together.”

      “Ditching the car?” Trent stared at me like I’d said we were going to walk to the moon.

      “Right now,” I said as the light changed and I turned into the quiet parking lot, ignoring the DO NOT PARK sign. “You hear those sirens? We left the scene of an accident, one we helped make. There’s no way we can go back there, which makes this a marked car, and not just by your friends from Seattle. Soon as we find Ivy, she’ll carry your bag, Mr. Kalamack. Think you can handle it that long?”

      “First smart thing you’ve done all day,” Trent muttered, his fingers tapping.

      Jenks exhaled loudly, his wings an excited red as I put the car in park and turned the engine off. I was moving almost before the car stopped, gathering my stuff and jamming everything but the bag of trash into my bag, Trent’s sunglasses included.

      Trent was already out of the car, and I popped the trunk. My fingers trembled as I worked the door handle, finally getting the stupid thing open. Cool air slipped in, and the sound of kids. Damn, that had been close. What the devil were they putting in their coffee in Seattle?

      “Where’s my phone?” I said, hearing it start to hum. “Jenks, have you seen my phone?”

      Jenks darted to the floorboards. “It’s under the seat!” he said, then added, “It’s Ivy.”

      I stretched, reaching for it, exhaling loudly as my fingers found the smooth plastic. I wished my fingers would stop shaking. Jenks zipped out from under the seat, and flipping my phone open, I muttered, “I think we lost them. We’re abandoning the car. Where are you?”

      “From the sounds of the sirens, I’d say a couple of blocks away,” she said. “What’s going on?”

      “I wish I knew.” Getting out, I looped my bag over my shoulder and grabbed my coat and Ivy’s laptop. Jenks was a sparkle of dust as he searched the car, giving me a thumbs-up before he joined Trent. Trent already had our luggage out from the back, and he slammed the trunk shut hard, his hands going to his hips as he squinted at the busy road, the wind from the nearby Mississippi River shifting his shirt to show the familiar mark on his shoulder.

      “We’re at the church,” I told Ivy. “I got your laptop, and we’re going to walk in. Soon as we find you, we’ll head to your car.” Worry pinched my brow. “Ivy, they tried to kill us on the interstate. A semi tipped over, and I think they killed a carload of people. Someone will remember my mom’s car.”

      “You’re at the church?” she asked, not caring. “You can’t park there.”

      “I’m not parking, I’m abandoning,” I said, frustrated as I looked at the big, hand-painted sign. My mom would not be happy. She’d been royally pissed off when I’d left her car at a pull-off by the Ohio River last year. At least this time the car was in my name and she wouldn’t be getting the impound notice.

      “Ivy, I gotta go,” I said, not able to handle everything I had and my suitcase, too.

      “I’m on my way,” she said, and I could hear the hoot of a steamship through the connection before it cut off.

      I closed my phone and tucked it away, worry settling in deep as I looked from Trent, standing behind the car with our stuff, to the road. We’d find Ivy, and then we’d be out of here. “Can anything else go wrong today?” I whispered, thinking I could have been sitting on a dock somewhere drinking coffee by now if the coven had let me fly.

      “Uh, you gotta stop saying stuff like that,” Jenks said, darting up in a wash of dust. Alarmed, I followed his gaze across the busy street.

      “Crap on toast,” I said, the dappled sun going cold on me as I saw three blond men in slacks and polo shirts. They must have left their car on the interstate and walked. It wasn’t that far, and a feeling of ice seemed to slip through me as I took them in.

      One had really long hair; the other was short but perfectly proportioned; and the third, in the middle, reminded me of Quen, even though he looked nothing like him. It was his pace, both predatory and graceful. The other two carried themselves with a belligerent swagger, shoulders back, arms swinging, and hands well away from their sides. The Withons had gotten serious.

      All three were watching us as they waited for four lanes of traffic to clear, but upon seeing me notice them, the one with the long hair simply stepped out into the street, his hand raised. Horns blew and cars screeched to a halt, the drivers yelling out their windows, ignored.

      Trent turned to the noise, his lips parting as he took a deep, resolute breath. Funny, I’d have thought he’d look scared, not determined, and I stifled a surge of what might be a feeling of kinship.

      “Well?” he asked me, looking surprisingly calm.

      “Find Ivy,” I said, digging through my shoulder bag for a stick of magnetic chalk and reaching out for the city’s ley lines. I sucked my breath in as I found the one the arch was pinning down. Holy cow, it was big and way stronger than the one under Cincy’s university. It felt slippery, being next to so much water, and had a metallic flavor, like fish.

      I looked up with the chalk in my hands, surprised to find Trent still standing there with his suitcase, Jenks hovering between us. “Go!” I shouted, pushing the chalk into Trent’s hand and giving him a shove. “Find Ivy. I’ll take care of this and catch you up.” Oh God. I could do this, right? Where was my black-arts bodyguard when I needed him?

      “Rache …,” Jenks whined, but Trent looked at the chalk in his hand and nodded. Saying nothing more, he turned and walked quickly away, СКАЧАТЬ