Page 9 of The Fire Went Wild

Unfortunately, she doesn’t stay in there long. Probably fifteen minutes. I was hoping she’d take her time, maybe keep chatting with Maggie, because that would give me the space to think of a plan. The best I come up with is kidnapping her.It doesn’t anger my gods, and I don’t think it’ll anger Sawyer, either. Much.

I’m still not fully convinced, though, not even when I catch the fiery flash of her hair through the spiny green palms. She steps through the door, the marsh wind blowing her dress up around her thighs, and then vanishes out of my view.

I turn my car on and ease down to the end of the road, catching her just as she climbs into her own car—a dark blue Honda. She pulls out to the driveway and then turns left. Heading toward Pellerin.

I count to five and follow her.

I’ve never liked tailing people, especially not on the narrow, two-lane highways that wrap around the marsh like old scars. There isn’t enough traffic, and anyone with a healthy sense of safety—like a woman traveling alone, looking for her missing friend—will notice you pretty quick. Still, I do my best, hanging back, keeping my eyes focused on the glint of her silver bumper. I wonder where she’s going. Pellerin? It’s the closest thing to a town around here, even though it’s small, the population only about 1,500 people. Everything else is the marsh, and people who live in the marsh like their space.

The highway stretches out, flat and straight, no curves or trees to hide me. She’s almost certainly seen me by now, although she might not do anything about it until we reach Pellerin. Once we hit those first few signs of civilization, the little neighborhood roads and dusty old strip malls, though, she’ll start wondering why I’m still behind her.

So what happens if she keeps going south, heading deeper into the swamp?

I curl my fingers around the steering wheel, heart pounding. My Guardian is nearby, watching me without saying anything. Holding me back from killing her.

“I can’t let her go,” I mutter.

My Guardian doesn’t have a response.

She’s speeding up, pushing 70 even though the limit here is 55. She’sdefinitelynoticed.

That’s when a thought comes to me, sparking out of nothing like it was delivered by my Guardian itself. This stretch of highway is lonely. We’re still at least twenty minutes out from the edge of Pellerin. If there was a car accident, it’s unlikely anyone would drive by?—

Don’t kill her.This doesn’t come from my Guardian but from the Unnamed, shouting in the thorny language of the Abyss.

I scowl and respond in kind. “I know. Message received.”

Then I press my foot on the gas.

My car’s engine roars, and I jerk forward, my own speed picking up. The redhead’s car glimmers up ahead. I glance at the speedometer.70. 75. 80.

Every nerve in my body sings, and I brace myself, pulling my muscles in tight. I’ve died five times. Let’s just hope this won’t be the sixth.

Her car gleams in front of me, glowing like a target.

I pull into the opposite lane like I’m going to pass her. Iamgoing to pass her. I press harder on the gas.90. 91. 92…

But I swerve over too early, slamming my foot down on the brakes and jerking my steering wheel to the right. My entire car turns diagonally, slicing across the front of her bumper with a terrible metallic scream. Everything goes shaky, and my bones rattle around in my body and my Guardian howls at me and my car plows into the grassy ditch on the side of the highway. The airbag explodes in my face.

I’m alive. I’m not even hurt. Hunter’s privileges. I just have to cross my fingers that she’s okay, though. Okay-ish. Okay enoughthat my gods and Sawyer won’t take turns dragging me into the ground.

I spill out of my car, leaving the engine running, my legs wobbling from the adrenaline. Her car’s twisted sideways, the silver bumper laying in fragments on the asphalt, the hood smashed up like an accordion. Through the windshield, I see the balloon of her airbag. The driver’s side door is still closed.

I stumble over to her, swiping my hair out of my face. The wind’s blowing in from the north, and it’s got a chill on it. Cold front’s coming.

I see her hair before I see anything else, just like when she walked into Bandit’s. It splays against the window like blood. For a minute, I think itisblood, and my pulse quickens. But no. The color’s not quite right. Neither’s the texture.

Also, she stirs inside the car.

I move quickly. The driver’s door is crumpled, but I’m strong enough to wrench it open. The redhead leans sideways, catching herself on the steering wheel. Then she looks up at me.

“You,” she says, dragging the word out. She’s bleeding, a small line of crimson across her forehead. Nothing major. Her eyes are dazed, though. I’m about to make it worse.

I don’t say anything, just tangle my fingers up in her long red hair. It’s silky against my skin, and I like that, although I try not to think about how I like it. Her dazed eyes go wide, and she reaches up for my wrist. I’m too fast for her, though.

I slam her forehead against the dashboard. Just once. Just hard enough to knock her unconscious. I can still feel her heart beating.

She slumps forward, and I pull her out of the driver’s seat. I’m a gentleman about it. I don’t touch the places I want to touch, tempting though it is. I keep telling myself she’s not dead, that she’ll wake up in a few hours, maybe less, and look at mewith those big brown eyes. I don’t know how to deal with living girls. Especially pretty ones like her.

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