Page 60 of Vampire so Virtuous (Boston Vampires #1)

Noah grunted, focused on driving, then slammed on the brakes as a car pulled out from a side street. Cally was jolted forward into her seatbelt, and winced as it tugged at her shoulder, though the pain was less than before. The cut from Zoey’s knife stung, a sharp contrast to the deep ache beneath.

They swerved around the car in front, and Noah hit the gas again.

Racing down a narrow, tree-lined road, large houses on one side, Noah hit the horn and held it down as they approached an intersection, ignoring the red lights.

Cally braced herself, but they crossed in a blink, cars swerving out of their way.

“One of the SUVs crashed, but it doesn’t look permanent,” Zoey reported, watching out the rear window. Cally tried to turn, but Zoey gripped her head again. “Seatbelts don’t work so well when you’re not facing forward, Princess. ”

“Stop calling me princess.”

“Stop calling her princess, Zoey,” Noah barked, swerving the wrong way around a triangular traffic island, cutting past slower cars.

He slammed the brakes again. The car skidded, failing to slow in time, and struck the rear of a much smaller car.

It spun off, mounted the sidewalk, and slammed into a tree.

“That works,” Noah said, as he accelerated once more.

He took a left and the trees receded. The road widened, and he used all of it, shooting past a family car. Through the windows, the kids stared, wide-eyed and grinning.

“Crossing I-93.”

They sped over the bridge, and Cally checked the interstate. It was clear, traffic flowing.

“I’ve lost them,” Noah said, spinning the wheel to take a left at the junction. The light was green, another car turning outside them, and they sideswiped it as Noah fought for control, metal crunching against metal, the other car careening off.

“You drive, I’ll look!” Zoey said, twisting around.

“Deliberate maneuver,” Noah grunted.

“Sure it was!” Zoey retorted. “They’re still back there. About fifty yards.”

“Road’s opening out,” Noah said, flooring it down a straight four-lane highway.

“They’re closing in.” Zoey unfolded the shoulder stock on her weapon.

“Can’t do anything about it. Road’s too open.”

“Can I have a gun?” Cally asked. They both ignored her.

“I’m on the wrong damn side for shooting,” Zoey complained as she opened her window, then pivoted in her seat and stuck her head and shoulders out.

Shots rang out, echoing through the car as Zoey fired in short bursts. Ahead, two cars filled the lanes, and Noah swung onto the other side of the road.

“In!” he shouted, swerving back between the next pair. Zoey barely cleared the window as their SUV skimmed the cars on either side. The passenger wing mirror snapped off and Noah shot it an irritated look. “Wasn’t using that anyway.”

“No shit you weren’t.”

A long burst of gunfire came from behind them, but Cally couldn’t tell where the bullets went.

“Amateurs,” Zoey grunted .

“Coming up on I-93,” Noah said, voice tense. “Where the hell’s our backup?”

Zoey tossed her phone to Cally. “See if there’s any update.”

“Where do I—?”

“WhatsApp.”

Cally flicked open the phone. The home screen had only a couple of apps and a neutral background. She thumbed the green and white phone icon with a half-dozen red badge alerts. Skimming the messages, she said, “They’re joining at Columbia Road.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Noah shouted. “We’ll practically be there by then!”

He swerved onto the onramp, accelerating hard past a line of cars, then ducked into a gap as an oncoming car flashed its headlights.

The interstate stretched ahead, their lane curving to meet it, and Noah took full advantage of the dirt ground alongside.

The car skidded, wheels spinning, but held on as they raced to join the five-lane road.

“This is where it gets wild,” he said.

Zoey unzipped her bag, pulling out two magazines and handing them to Cally. “Hold these, sweetheart.”

Cally juggled the phone into the kangaroo pocket of her hoodie, accepting the rounds. “Can I have a gun?”

“No, you cannot have a gun.”

“Give her your Beretta,” Noah grunted.

Zoey pulled it from her shoulder holster and handed it over, clearly reluctant. “Round in the chamber. Ever shot one of these?”

“Just pull the trigger, right?”

That earned her a scowl. “Safety is there,” she said. “It’s on unless you’re firing. Try not to shoot Noah in the back of the head, m’kay?”

“Practical tip, thanks.” Cally had been to the range with her Dad a few times. That had been fun. This was not.

Noah was in the outside lane, flashing past cars like they were standing still. Occasionally, he’d duck back in to undertake before pulling out again.

“They’re gaining,” he said, just as a burst of automatic fire cracked through the air, bullets pinging across the roof. Cally flinched, her grip tightening on her seat as Noah swerved violently.

Another sharp burst of fire, followed by the sickening thud of bullets slamming into the rear window. They all instinctively ducked, but it held, a spiderweb of cracks and dents.

“Bulletproof glass?” Cally asked, her voice tight .

“Natch.” Zoey twisted in her seat to peer out.

“Not complaining, but how come your car is bulletproof?”

“Not mine. Marcel’s,” Noah grunted.

“Huh. Really?” Cally said, then tried to bury her fear by lightening the mood. “I had him down as the little town-car type. Or maybe a Rolls.”

Noah barked a laugh, then swung wide across the road, racing up the hard shoulder to hide behind a string of eighteen-wheelers.

But one of the large semi-trucks swung out ahead of them, its brake lights lighting up.

“Shit!” Noah braked hard, ducking back between the vehicles.

Immediately, a weapon opened up, spraying the side of their car with bullets, punching into Cally’s door.

The car lurched, almost hitting the large wheels of the nearest truck.

A second later, another burst struck the rear window, and this time, it shattered.

“Get down!” Zoey yelled, leaning over the back seats to return fire.

The noise was deafening, gunfire echoing and reverberating in the enclosed space, bringing a sense of claustrophobic pressure.

Cally slumped in her seat, gripping Zoey’s pistol in one hand, a heavy magazine in the other.

She gritted her teeth, hating the helplessness.

What was the point of having witch magic if she couldn’t use it at a time like this?

“Magazine!” Zoey called, the empty cartridge dropping from her weapon. She extended her hand, and Cally slapped the fresh one into her palm.

Zoey slammed it into the machine gun’s slot, cocked the action, and fired again. Short bursts every two or three seconds, the weapon jerking back against her shoulder.

The loud crunch of metal on metal came from behind them, but Zoey didn’t stop firing.

“Did you get one?” Noah yelled over the chaos.

“Not yet,” Zoey shouted back. “They hit a civilian.”

Confirmation, if Cally needed it, that both these thralls were military. Hadn’t Antoine found them on a park bench? Now they were risking their lives for her, blindly obedient.

And she wasn’t questioning it. Why not? Did she no longer see thralls as humans?

Or was she so scared she’d let anyone take the bullets meant for her?

Fuck that .

Cally pushed the button for her window. The wind rushed in, blowing her hair around her face .

“What are you doing?” Zoey bellowed over the noise.

“Helping!”

The handgun Zoey had given her was a uniform matte black with a textured grip, iron sights, and a push safety.

She grasped it two-handed, the way her dad had shown her, and glanced out the window.

The same gray SUV she’d seen before was three car lengths back, coming up fast on their outside, with two men in the front.

The passenger had an automatic weapon aimed at their car.

“Get down!” she yelled, ducking back behind her door. Zoey pulled away from the rear window as bullets thunked into the bodywork.

“Thanks,” Zoey called, rising up over the seats again, then yelled, “How much longer, Noah?”

“That’s the basin!” he shouted back, as open water appeared out of the right-side windows. “Two miles to backup!”

About ninety seconds at this speed .

Cally risked peering past the edge of her door in time to see the gray SUV swing away, almost parallel with them. She grimly pushed the safety switch, raised her weapon, and fired.

“Windows are bulletproof!” Zoey yelled. “Go for the tires!”

Their vehicle was swerving wildly as Noah tried to make them a harder target.

Wind buffeted her arm, the trigger was heavier than it felt on the range, and they were flying down the interstate at a hundred.

She felt like shouting back, ‘I can hardly hit the car, let alone the tires,’ but Zoey thought little enough of her as it was.

Instead, she gritted her teeth, lifted the firearm, and aimed lower.

She squeezed the trigger twice more, unsure where the first two rounds went, but the third dented the passenger door, beneath their open window.

The thrall inside flinched, then his face twisted as he spat a curse.

He brought his weapon up, aiming straight at her.

“Down!” Cally yelled, ducking back, and Noah swerved sharply to the right.

Bullets raked their car, and it lurched, swerving wildly as Noah fought for control.

“Fuck! We’ve lost a tire!” Zoey screamed, and was slammed against the door as the SUV jolted.

The SUV shuddered, rear end dragging. Cally didn’t know how they were still moving, only that their speed was dropping.

“You’re slowing down!” she shouted.

“Run-flat,” Noah bit out. “Won’t last for long at these speeds. ”

The SUV felt off—unsteady. It wasn’t fishtailing, but every movement was wrong, sluggish. Something thumped and flapped in the back, the grinding noise growing worse.

The gray SUV pulled level. The thrall was fitting a new magazine as Cally raised her weapon again.

Aim. Breathe. Squeeze.

Three shots. She had no idea if she hit anything. But then the gray SUV swerved, overcorrected, and slammed into the concrete barrier. The impact sent it spinning wildly, its tires squealing as it spun across the lanes, colliding with another vehicle before both crashed into the opposite barrier.

“Way to go Princess!” Zoey yelled, pulling back into her seat to reload.

“Pure luck!” Cally shouted back.

“We know!”

“Behind us!” bellowed Noah.

A second later, a car smashed into their rear quarter.

Cally was thrown forward, her seat belt jerking, her neck wrenching painfully.

The rear of the SUV swung out, and the screech of tortured metal filled the air.

They clipped another car. A deafening crunch. Glass burst, and everything flipped.

With a violent bang, the airbag exploded into Noah’s face. Cally’s seatbelt snapped tight, pinning her back as her stomach slammed into her ribs. The world spun—road, sky, shattered glass, then road again.

Zoey whipped into the roof and rebounded off the back of the seat with a sickening crack, her arm twisting at an unnatural angle.

The wind whipped through the open window, tearing at Cally’s hair, the grinding of metal growing more unbearable with each roll.

She barely made sense of the chaos as the world outside seemed to swallow them whole.

Glass exploded across the cabin. Every roll and impact slammed her into her belt, into the door.

The stench of burning rubber cloyed her throat.

Another brutal, crunching impact, and the car teetered high on its side before toppling over with a final, sickening crash.

Cally hung upside down, stunned and breathless, the lap belt biting into her hips. No sound but her own pulse, hammering in her skull.

The car had spun, and her window faced down the interstate.

Two gray SUVs skidded to a stop, only a dozen yards away.