Page 7

7

V alen’s ride was a vintage cruiser, and even standing a few feet away, Evelyn could feel the engine’s deep rumbling vibrations through the soles of her boots. It was larger and louder than the sportier Marge but not nearly as nimble. She settled onto her bike and strapped on her helmet. If they got into any trouble on their way out of town, she’d need to stay aware of where he was to avoid getting separated. It was bad enough that he was carrying the box containing the book. The last thing she wanted was to lose sight of either of them.

The afternoon sun was intense. Sweat gathered at the base of her neck and trickled down her back as they left her neighborhood. The intense stress of the last twenty-four hours had been exhausting, and despite her current anxiety about getting the book out of New Orleans before they were caught… she was tired. Her arms and legs felt heavy, and the headache continued to ravage the back of her skull. Whatever had happened at Dominique’s house had left her feeling utterly depleted. She needed sleep. Soon. Even her eyelids were starting to feel heavy.

Valen held out his arm to make sure she knew he was changing lanes, and she followed closely behind him, careful not to leave enough room for cars to cut in between them. At the next red light, she lifted up her visor to wipe the sweat from her face. Get out of town, then you can find yourself a big juicy steak and a nice soft bed. Her mind wandered to thoughts of air conditioning and hot showers, and she almost missed the next turn. Valen hadn’t signaled, and he was speeding up. Was he trying to lose her in the traffic?

Then she heard it—howling. It was quiet, not yet directly on their trail, but it explained why Valen had quite literally shifted gears. He must’ve heard them before she did. He cut to the left, and she followed. They were still miles from the city limits. He took them into City Park, staying off the interstate to use smaller roads instead. Evelyn appreciated the route—once they were on the interstate, they were basically trapped. Especially while crossing the water. The longer they could navigate via side streets, the better. A low howl turned her veins to ice. It was close. Valen tilted his head, telling her he’d heard it too. Not good.

Valen pointed off to the side emphatically, like he wanted her to veer away instead of sticking with him. Like hell she would. Another low howl, this one even closer than the last. She sped up to pull parallel with Valen.

“They’re getting closer!” She had to yell to be heard above the sound of their engines.

“I know! We should split up.”

“No!” she shouted. “We stay together!”

“Meet me at the Super 8. We’ll get on the interstate from there.”

“I said NO! No splitting up!”

The wind stole his reply, but she got the gist of it. He wasn’t happy with her refusal to separate. They crossed over a bridge, the wooden slats noisy under their tires. Valen suddenly stopped and started taking the bag off his back. Evelyn skidded to a stop beside him.

“What are you doing?”

“Giving you the damn book.” He opened the box and removed the book. He visibly shuddered, and Evelyn wondered what the extent of Valen’s magical ability actually was. He clearly knew a lot about wards and blessings and other protective elements, but was that it? Or could he feel the evil crawling all over the book? Valen shoved it into her bag and sealed the iron buckles. He kept his hand on her bag and whispered a few words before looking into her eyes. “Be careful.”

She re-situated the bag to be more secure, then flashed him a grin she wished she felt. “Race you to the Super 8!”

Without having to pace herself to Valen and his larger bike, Evelyn felt like a horse that’d finally been given free rein. She leaned low and opened the throttle. Time to fly. Two wolves lunged out of the bushes to their right, and Valen turned to face them. “GO!”

Evelyn sped off but could see Valen fighting the wolves in her side mirror. A high-pitched howl raised the hairs on the back of her neck.

A jackal.

Though they were rarer than wolves, jackals made excellent sniffers. Like Marge, they were smaller and more compact than most of their shifter brethren—and faster. Before the wolf that knocked her off her bike the night before, the only sniffers who’d come close to running her down were jackals. More feral in their shifted form, they were known for being extremely aggressive in taking down their prey. Rumor had it their magic addictions were merely a cover for their violent tendencies. That it was blood lust, not magic lust, that drove them. Evelyn didn’t like to assume all jackals were murderous assholes, but she’d yet to meet one who wasn’t. Hazard of the job.

She needed to get out of City Park. The winding paths and dense copses of trees provided too much cover, which meant that one or more of her pursuers could get close before she realized it and catch her off guard. They would have to be more careful in broad daylight and in more populated areas, but not here. The jackal howled again, and this time she could hear several other howls responding from different directions. They were trying to box her in. She wasn’t far from the edge of the park, but to get there she had to ride past a longer stretch of trees. That was probably what they were counting on.

Evelyn dipped one hand into her pocket of black obsidian powder. On the open road, Marge was faster than these motherfuckers. She just needed to get past the trees. Flashes of golden brown fur and large ears told her there was at least one jackal trying to pace her in the trees to the right. She sped up and moved to the left lane to give herself more distance, hoping no cars or pedestrians would choose this particular path.

“C’mon, c’mon, c’mon!” There were two of them now, running together and pushing her pace. More howls sounded from up ahead. A loud crack from somewhere behind drew her attention—Valen?—and the sniffers took that opportunity to attack. Twin canines leapt from the tree line, aiming to knock her off her bike. Evelyn threw up her hand covered in black powder.

“ Mihi molestus ne sis!”

The jackals yelped as their bodies slammed into an invisible wall, and they crumpled to the ground behind her as she sped away. Evelyn wiped her palm on her jeans. She was going to need more soon. Three ounces was normally enough to last her several months—her style was more stealth than direct confrontation. Or it used to be. She took a deep breath as she crossed another bridge to exit the park, leaving behind the sniffer-friendly nature for a concrete oasis.

It took her almost twenty minutes to make it to the Super 8 by Wyndham, but it was an uneventful ride. She eased off the main road into the parking lot, looking for some shade to park in. No sign of Valen. She pulled off her helmet and lifted up her hair to let the breeze dry the sweat at the back of her neck. She couldn’t wait long. It was already late afternoon, and it would probably take her another twenty minutes to cross Lake Pontchartrain and reach the north shore. Hitting beach on the other side would officially mark her exit from New Orleans.

Evelyn sent Valen a text, checking on his ETA. She didn’t want to be stuck in the city after dark. He knew that. What was taking him so long? She paced around her bike impatiently for several minutes until her phone buzzed.

“On my way. Head to the bridge. I’ll catch up.”

Like hell he would. She’d be surprised if that old cruiser could still get above 60.

“Okay. Leaving the Super 8 now.”

Evelyn merged back onto I-10, keeping close enough to the posted speed limits to avoid getting pulled over but not one mile per hour slower than was necessary. Late afternoon was shifting into early evening, and the clock was ticking. The ride to the bridges was quiet. No more howls to send her pulse racing. She felt herself relaxing again, her muscles softening now that the immediate threat was over. She was tired. So tired. Her eyelids started to droop, and she shook herself. She had to stay alert.

When she reached the exit for Route 11, she started checking behind her for Valen. No sign of him. The sun was beginning to dip—she couldn’t wait. Evelyn signaled, then took the exit to Maestri Bridge. She smelled the saltwater just before the blue-green waters of Lake Pontchartrain came into view. She was almost there. She smiled to herself in relief. She was going to make it. Steak dinner, soft bed, then open road all the way to Tennessee. For the first time since she got skull-fucked by the dark magic attached to the book, Evelyn thought she might actually survive this mess.

Dirt and sand pocked with sparse vegetation lined the sides of the road as she approached the bridge. The signature rumble of Valen’s motorcycle alerted her to his arrival. Finally. She turned her head to see him pull up beside her just as her body slammed into an invisible barrier. She stopped moving but her bike didn’t. Marge skidded several yards ahead, coming to a stop in the middle of the lane. Cars swerved around her, horns honking and drivers cursing, but she barely registered it.

Evelyn struggled to her feet, dazed. The rushing in her ears was deafening now. Valen pulled off onto the narrow shoulder and rushed to her side.

“Marge,” she managed. Valen jogged ahead to retrieve her bike. Drivers continued to honk their disapproval, prompting Evelyn to move further onto the shoulder of the highway at the edge of the bridge. Valen parked her bike next to his.

“What happened?”

Evelyn shook her head then regretted it immediately as her vision swam. “I don’t know. I hit something.”

He looked around. “There’s nothing here.”

“Oh, there’s something.” Evelyn walked slowly forward toward the bridge, her hand held out in front of her, until she felt it. Her palm pressed against the barrier. Once she knew where it was, Evelyn could see the subtle shimmer in the dying light. She pushed against it. It extended along the coastline as far she could see in either direction. Looking up, she squinted to see it disappear into the clouds above. It was huge. A magical barrier of this magnitude was nearly unfathomable. Panic sped up her pulse as tendrils of cold coiled in her belly.

She was trapped.

Cars and trucks continued to pass through unbothered. A thought occurred to her, and she slipped the bag from across her body and let it fall gently to the ground. She reached for the barrier again, but this time her hand passed through it. Shit, she thought.

“Fuck,” she said. Valen had come up to stand beside her. She handed him her bag containing the book, then guided his hand to the barrier without a word. His expression darkened from confusion to fear.

“This is bad.” He dropped the pack from his back and put the book back inside the iron box, sealing it away. Then, holding the straps of the pack in one hand, he tried again to pass through the barrier. No dice. “This is very bad.”

Evelyn looked around them. The sky was darkening. As soon as it was truly night, the sniffers would be out in full force. The book, even in the iron box, would be like a beacon to them. They had to make a decision.

“This isn’t going to work,” she said. “We have to go.”

Valen nodded and strapped the box to his back once again. “Follow me. I know somewhere we’ll be safe until we can come up with a new plan.”

Evelyn gave Marge a quick once over to make sure she was still street worthy. She was scuffed to hell but otherwise intact. “Where are we going?”

Valen glanced at her over his muscular shoulder. “Home.”