Chapter 8 #4
He glanced at a beat-down Cadillac to his right and saw an enormous crucifix dangling from the rearview mirror.
A quick-draw gun rack occupied the space where the center console belonged, loaded with a rifle bearing an impressive scope.
A Walmart bag filled with garlic bulbs sat in the passenger seat.
To his right, a shiny new Chevy sported a pair of Mossbergs hung on a two-gun window rack.
He knew Texans loved their firearms—hell, so did he—but they had either interrupted an out-of-season deer-hunting party or…
Alone, none of those things triggered his paranoia, but together, the staggering coincidences mounted to a terrifying conclusion. Hurrying up to one of the pickups without tinted windows, he peered into the cab and saw an open duffel bag filled with wooden stakes.
Shit.
Light washed over the yard, gleaming from every window in the lower level, like the sun itself had dawned in Joe’s house.
Adrian dove into the shadows behind a Ford Explorer, quick enough to avoid the blast save for a searing lance across his arm and shoulder.
Clothing offered little in the way of protection.
Pain scorched across his link with Emma, the sheer intensity almost slamming him to the ground. He caught his balance mid stumble then shot forward like a bolt toward the porch, only to encounter the threshold.
It was brittle. Weak. While it had once been nourished by the love of a family, those people were dead now and only Joe remained. Adrian dug the toes of his boots into the ground and put his shoulder into the invisible barrier, gritting his teeth until it snapped and he entered the home.
“Emma!”
A war zone greeted Adrian. The first man, armed with a shotgun, rushed at him and pulled the trigger. The shell ignited midair and left behind a trail of flames. Adrian weaved to the left, too fast for mortal eyes to track. The Dragon’s Breath round exploded against the wall and lit the curtains.
“He’s inside the house!” were his attacker’s last words. Adrian disarmed him and crushed his skull with the butt of the Mossberg.
“Emma!” Adrian shouted again. A bullet whizzed past his head, missing its mark by a narrow margin. Behind him, the flames spread from the curtains to a nearby couch. The acrid stench of burning upholstery filled the room.
Two more men rushed into the room from the stairwell with their weapons leading the way.
The first hunter charged forward with a stake in hand while his buddy raised a shotgun.
The sharpened spear penetrated too far to the left and struck against his ribs.
Adrian knocked the ineffective weapon to the side, grabbed the hunter, and used him as a human shield when the second hunter fired.
A spray of silver buckshot slammed into the man’s back.
Adrian hurled the dying man into his comrade, weaved left, then right, avoiding another guy shooting a Desert Eagle.
Too fast for them, he spun around his assailant and twisted the hunter’s head backward.
“Put the damn fire out before we all burn alive!” one of them shouted.
Adrian ignored their frantic shouts and tore through the lower level, following Emma’s anguish down the hallway and into the kitchen beyond. The sight within brought him to a skidding halt.
A burning, mutilated shade that barely resembled Emma writhed on the kitchen floor while Joe crouched above her with a stake in one hand and a mallet in the other. Behind him, a man in an Army T-shirt watched it all, and neither appeared disturbed by her bloodcurdling screams.
The pounding tempo of his heart kicked into overdrive and a berserker rage washed away any semblance of common sense. He snarled, ready to spill blood for what they had done.
Joe spotted him first.
“Shit!” Joe dropped the stake as he leapt up to his feet. He slid across the tiles and stumbled into the wooden cabinets behind him.
“I’ll kill you!”
Adrian lurched forward, only to strike an invisible barrier. It flashed at the moment of contact, radiating pale blue light each time he tried to breach its defense.
The taller man smiled, smug and confident behind the magical shield. He sneered. “You’re too late, demon. She’ll be ashes within minutes.”
Faced with two options—taking vengeance or sweeping Emma to safety—Adrian took the only choice his heart would allow. Without regard for his own well-being, he hefted her into his arms and sped from the house, dodging gunfire with every step.
Dust and rocks flew out from beneath the tires as he peeled away. He swerved around a pickup parked at the curb, cut across an empty lot, and went for the most direct route out of town. It didn’t take long.
White-knuckled, Adrian gripped the steering wheel despite the blisters on his hands. She’d been so hot, she’d burned even him.
How the hell did she survive at all?
“Hold on, Emma. Just hold on. You’re gonna make it,” Adrian told her as the BMW hurtled through the streets. Prior to embarking on their journey, he’d learned the location of every safe house within the immediate area in the event that sunrise threatened to catch them during the mission.
He never thought he’d be rushing to the local safe haven while Emma died beside him in the passenger seat.
Not dying. She isn’t dying. He told himself the words again and again, though the ferocity of his faith wasn’t able to reverse the damage.
Adrian glanced in the rearview mirror and saw they hadn’t pursued him. With Emma suffering, almost a pile of ash beside him, he didn’t have the time to engage with a violent group of hunters toting twelve-gauge shotguns loaded with incendiary shells. Risking her life wasn’t worth it.
He’d get revenge later, that grim determination heavy in his thoughts.
After turning off the interstate onto an overgrown, untended farm road, he encountered a wrought-iron gate five miles outside the Atropos city limits.
He punched in the four-digit PIN through the open window and zipped down a dirt road to an abandoned house.
Overall, the sanctuary appeared small, far from luxurious, but outfitted with enough security and technology to guarantee hunters wouldn’t find them.
A few quick taps on his smartphone opened the garage and disabled the alarm system. He had Emma out of the car before the automatic doors shut behind them.
With every labored breath and pitiful sob from her, he wanted to skin her ex-feeder one strip of flesh at a time. And the damned mage with him.