Page 163 of Hell Breaks Loose

The three of them follow her out, Sing giving me a wide-eyed glance as he joins the two women.

“He’s going to get groped,” Tell murmurs.

“So groped.” I agree, snorting softly.

“And what am I supposed to be doing, exactly?” Tell spins toward me in his chair, narrowing his eyes. “Playing secretary to my lover? Bringing you coffee? A bagel?”

“Ooh! I’d kill for a chocolate banana with cream cheese from Speigle’s…”

“Do not even talk to me about that right now. As soon as civilization resumes, I’m taking espresso intravenously for a week.”

“That actually brings me back to your job,” I spout, locking eyes with him. “How’s that task going with the stuff in the thing at the place?”

“The guy is doing the thing at a place with the stuff.”

“And is it ready?”

“It damned well better be. Norris is good. I just hope he's had enough time.”

“I can’t wait to meet him. And I hope so too.”

33

HELLENA

“How did she find us?!”

“Better question: How do we do our jobs when we’re being chased by psychos?!” Ora growls, slamming the jeep into gear and taking a hairpin turn. The rest of the vehicles scatter behind us, all but Gavin, riding alongside on one of the Block’s incredible motorcycles.

The trip down the mountains was going so well until we got ambushed on the edge of town. In retrospect, I guess the whole plan kinda went to shit before we got started.

Best laid plans or whatever.

“Everyone, do your best not to get pinned down. Lose your tails or get to safety and hunker down!” I announce over the radio.

Several replies copy back.

It’s a start, but I have no clue what to do next.

We’re coming up on the main entrance to town, the old iron archway suddenly visible in stark relief, outlined in blinking white light. It’s a fucking barricade.

With dozens of Ghosts stomping on top of broken down cars, waiting for us right where we were supposed to regroup, our launching point for taking back the town.

We slow, crunching to a halt, taking in the scene.

There, right at the top of the heap of crates piled in the street, I see her stand.

Rachelle. The herald of the Seven Sinful. And the crowd goes wild, every one of the freaks below cheering as she raises one hand.

In the blinding light, I can just make out her shadow as she places the megaphone to her mouth and speaks.

“Tonight’s the end of an era. And the beginning of a new age. It’s time for us to wipe all of our opposition off the face of the map. To eliminate the enemies of change.”

Her voice is unrecognizable. And not because of the scratch of the megaphone.

Rachelle is gone. In her place, something totally deluded. An icon. A megalomaniacal tyrant.

With an army of loyal subjects willing to die for her cause.

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