Chapter 25
Cass
Cass ignored the speed limits as the county road turned into a divided four-lane interstate, leaving the more populated areas behind. Night covered the desert, and since the only hints of civilization were the overhead freeway signs, she figured there wasn’t much out here.
“Take the next exit,” Grayson said. “Looks like they’re turning off.”
“Got it.”
Tense quiet settled back in as the minutes ticked by and asphalt unspooled under the tires.
She was doing her damnedest not to get lost in her mind, but it was hard.
The feeling of time slipping through her fingers beat at her.
She tried to console herself by remembering that her mother was a force to be reckoned with, but it wasn’t helping.
Rhea had been gone hours, and images of her father, beaten and bloody, mocked her.
How hurt is she? Is she even alive?
That last question shredded her heart. Despite their contentious relationship, losing her mom would damage her in a way she wasn’t sure she’d recover from. How many times could you fail to save those you loved before the losses destroyed you? She didn’t want to learn the answer.
“They stopped,” Grayson said.
She flexed her fingers on the wheel, feeling the blood rush back in. “Where?”
Light flicked against the windshield as he activated his phone and checked the paper location against the real-time map. “Looks like one of those new-construction home developments.”
“In the middle of nowhere?”
“Maybe that’s why they chose it.”
Her headlights swept over the green sign spanning the road. “Exit’s in three miles.” She pressed her foot down on the accelerator, watching the speedometer tick past ninety-five.
“We need to get there in one piece,” Grayson reminded her gently.
“I know.” She leveled off at ninety-eight and only started to slow as the exit approached.
“Go right, follow it down, then take the fourth left.”
When they hit the surface streets, she dropped her speed to a more respectable forty-something and continued to follow Grayson’s directions.
They drove along a wide road split by a median filled with shrubs and the occasional overgrown tree.
Every now and then, they saw a battered, overflowing dumpster squatting off to the side.
More than half the streetlights were dark, and those that worked were dim, barely illuminating the area around them.
For a long time, that was all there was.
Eventually, cracked sidewalks appeared, edging the road.
An occasional street sign would interrupt them.
Then a cement wall appeared, the gray rock decorated in graffiti.
“Go down another block and make a left.” Grayson picked up the paper map and checked the tracking spell. “They haven’t moved in the last few minutes.”
“So wherever they are in here, they’ve holed up?”
“That’s my guess.” He leaned forward, peering through the windshield. “When you hit the stop sign, turn off your lights.”
She got to the four-way stop, hit the lights, and made the left, slowing even more. Without her headlights, she could only see a few feet ahead of her. “There’s no way they’re not going to hear us coming.”
“Got an idea on that,” Grayson said. “Just need a spot to pull over.”
On the other side of the cement walls, the pale wood of partially built homes took shape.
They continued down the unmarked road of what looked like an abandoned planned community.
The tattered Now Selling banner hanging from one of the working lights was one clue.
The fact there had been no lights, cars, or signs of life since they’d turned in added to that impression.
“There.” He pointed to her left. “Pull in there.”
She turned into what was meant to be the entrance to one of the smaller neighborhoods.
They passed darkened homes that looked finished, but when they rolled under a streetlight, Cass realized the houses had been left at that near-completion stage.
Some were missing stonework facades, while others sported broken windows and missing doors.
One house had a garage door that looked as if it had been rammed with a truck, and another wore an elaborate piece of graffiti with an anatomically incorrect suggestion.
She drove by a long orange dumpster and rolled to a stop next to an empty lot.
Grayson was on his phone, his fingers flying over the screen, then came the swoosh of a text being sent.
“Zane?” she asked.
“Sending him our location.” Grayson slipped his phone into his pocket. “We can leave the car here.” He rechecked the tracking spell. “The map has Dana one street over and down.”
She undid her seat belt and watched him pull his gun out of the glove compartment. “Do you have one for me?”
“No, but pop the trunk. I’ve got some things we can use in the back.”
They met at the trunk, where Grayson put the gun in his waistband at his back and then lifted the liner. “Hold this for me…” he muttered.
She held the liner up as he brushed his fingers over a small rune etched in the metal near the wheel well.
There was a flash of crimson followed by the soft thud of a lock releasing, then a portion of the trunk popped up, revealing a compartment with multiple filled cubbies.
Grayson picked up a stoppered bottle from one and a stone threaded with a cord from another.
“Put this on.” He handed her the corded stone.
She slipped it over her head, and the stone came to rest against her breastbone. “What is it?”
Grayson caught the stone in his hand and made a fist. A burst of reddish gold seeped through his fingers as he activated it. “Protection amulet. It won’t stop bullets, but it’ll help.” He popped the top of the bottle and handed it to her. “Drink this.”
She brought it to her nose and caught a sharp, earthy, slightly musty odor. She grimaced. “Does it taste like it smells?”
“Just drink it, Cass.” He had another opened bottle in hand and shot it down.
She did the same. It wasn’t good, but it wasn’t bad. The flavor of nuts offset the pungent bite. She coughed a bit with the aftertaste. “It’s like some weird radish.”
“It’s an antitoxin potion. The base element is burdock root, hence the radish thing.” He took the now empty bottle from her and put it back in the box. “It won’t completely stop Dana’s magic from taking hold, but it will give me enough time to counter whatever she throws at us.”
“Okay, so we’ve got Dana covered. What about the Slider?”
Grayson touched the butt of the gun at his back. “This will keep him from going anywhere.”
“And whoever else is with them…?”
He went back to the compartment and pulled out what looked like silvery eggs.
“These are flash-bangs.” He handed her one and put the other in his pocket.
“All you have to do is break them, preferably near whoever you want to distract. They’ll leave a person blind and deaf for a few moments.
Hopefully, that’s long enough to even the odds. ”
She rolled the flash-bang over her palm. It was cool and surprisingly heavy. “How close does it have to get?”
“Just aim for the ground near them.” Grayson closed the compartment, replaced the liner, and lowered the trunk lid until he could press it closed.
He turned to her, and under the faint orange glow of the streetlight, he searched her face.
She didn’t know what he was looking for, but she knew what she wanted and needed.
She closed the few inches between them, caught his face, and brought it to hers for a long, sweet kiss.
It steadied her, that touch. When she felt like she was holding herself together with a wish and a prayer, his presence—his taste—gave her an anchor.
He let her have it for a moment, then he took over, his hands going to her hips and pulling her in until she could feel him, hot and solid against her, as she rose on her toes to meet his hunger with hers.
When she finally pulled back, she was breathing hard, and her pulse was pounding.
“Promise me you’ll be careful,” she whispered fiercely.
He dropped his forehead against hers. “I promise, so long as you do the same.”
“I will.”
His grip on her hips tightened as he drew back and pressed his lips to her forehead. “Okay, let’s do this.”
He stepped back and, with a murmur, ignited a ball of soft illumination.
It hung in the air at waist level, providing enough light for them to see where they were going.
The light stayed with Grayson as he started out at a near jog that Cass was able to easily match.
Halfway down the block, they cut through a series of empty lots, the dirt muffling their footsteps.
They hit the street where the spell told them Dana would be, which was lined with half-finished homes.
They made their way past dumpsters—some empty, some overflowing—and skirted more debris piles as they stepped over a low line of bricks delineating the lots, which sported hooked rebar like rusted antennas.