Page 75 of Just Dare Me
Oliver gasps. “Murder.”
Marco nods. “Yes. Taking a life gives power over that life, a bond rather like that of sorcerer mothers over their children. So simple.”
Nora looks at me in horror. “A necromancer can only reanimate somebody they’ve killed with their own hands?”
“And Madison West killed Marco Deus,” Jay finishes.
Oliver speaks the ugly words that hang over us. “Director West is Sorcerer X.”
It then falls to me to pound the final nail in our coffin. “Now we know where Tabitha Durran went. She’s at the Agency, where Madison West has not only gathered her ring of hand-picked sorcerers, but also Adrian York, a perfect vessel for Arael Moaz.”
Marco’s face lights up. “If that’s true, then this is the day we’ve been waiting for so long.”
When we all scramble back to our vehicles, he becomes upset, following after Nora. “Don’t go! It’s too late! Down here will be the only safe haven in Detroit. The whole world will be on fire!”
The roar of our engines drowns out his shouting.
Racing through the financial districtdowntown on Larned Street, working the clutch and shifter, up and down the gears, weaving in and out of traffic. Every time we emerge from the shadow of a building, the low morning sun blinds me.
“Crosswalk!” Jay shouts, bracing himself against the dash.
I hit the brakes and swerve around a group of morning joggers in the street. They scream and flip me off as I fishtail through the intersection, redirecting my Crap-pile south toward East Jefferson. Good thing I don’t have to worry about anybody getting thrown around in my back seat. Nolan and Darby stayed down in the mine to help Dominic round up her vampires, and to keep an eye on Marco Deus.
I glance in my vibrating rearview mirror, relieved to see both motorcycles still on my tail. Behind them, Elle’s Tesla swerves all over the road, honking other cars out of the way. Traffic is bad right now, and downtown seems especially crowded with pedestrians for a Saturday.
The drive here was quiet. I expected a barrage of questions about Madison West. Or an argument about how I must be wrong about this, how there’s got to be some other explanation. But nobody has said her name yet. Maybe they refuse to believe it until they see it. I don’t blame them.
Jay points at police sirens up ahead. “Jefferson’s blocked.”
“Are you kidding me? What the hell’s going on? If this is another wine festival, Iswear.”
“Worse,” Jay says. “It’s a marathon.”
He’s right. There’s another horde of joggers crossing East Jefferson. Half of them have signs attached to their backs with numbers on them. A news van is parked on the corner. A cameraman films the runners.
Nora’s voice crackles through my earpiece. “That’s today?”
“This thing’s huge,” Russo says. “The route goes all through downtown. Half the city’ll be out for it.”
It’s Charlotte, of course, who not only states the obvious, but helps me to feel stupid, in case I didn’t already. “Not good, Shayne. If East Side wants an audience, they’ve picked the perfect day.”
I pound the steering wheel. “So many signs. How did I miss every single one? I should’ve known thesecondMadison West agreed to let me have my dream team for the raid on the mine. I couldn’t have played more into her hands. If I have all the most powerful underworlders with me, then there’s nobody here to stop her.”
“Except Nick,” Nora says. “He’s interviewing sorcerers in Grosse Point. He can be here in twenty minutes.”
“We can’t risk calling Nick. Until we know more, we have to assume he’s in on this.”
“There’s no way,” Ilren says.
“Not a chance,” Nora agrees. “Madison insisted on him going to Grosse Pointe this morning. Obviously a bogus excuse to keep him away from the Agency.”
“I want to say I’m with you on that, but Nick’s the one who’s always been telling me that when it comes to us being outed to the world, it’s a matter ofwhen, notif. Like he knew.”
“He didn’t,” Nora insists.
“I hope you’re right. But until we know for sure, we can’t give up the element of surprise. They think we’ll be down in that mine for another two hours.”
Taking the detour onto Woodbridge Street, I see that we’re already too late. Half a mile ahead, a column of thick, black smoke rises against the blue sky.
