Page 46 of Blood Bearon
Rachel’s stomach sank. She didn’t like what she was hearing. “Like we almost did last night,” she whispered nervously, peering out into the darkened town around them.
“He knows we’re here now,” Khove confirmed, his eyes focused out the windshield. “We just played right into his hands.”
22
“Turn the car around,” he barked abruptly, coming to a decision. “Head for the Manor as fast as you can. Don’t stop for anything.”
The car was already whipping around in a circle before he’d finished speaking. Tires squealed on asphalt and shortly thereafter, the acrid stink of burnt rubber filled the interior, cloying at his nose.
Khove was glad he’d decided to extend his trust to Rachel earlier. It was proving dividends now as they raced through the center of town toward the far side. She blew through any light or stop sign that gave her visibility to do so, and didn’t slow for any other cars, often weaving in and around them. It was impressive.
Then all at once, the little traffic that remained was gone. The streets around them were completely devoid of any late-night foot traffic. Even storefronts had gone dark, their neon signs dull, dim.
“Khove?” Rachel asked, her voice sounding distant.
He looked over at his driver, noticing the way her attention was flagging. Angrily, he reached into a pocket and withdrew a ring.
“Put this on.”
She looked over at him, and despite all that was going on as they sped through town, and the forces working on her brain, some of her personality shone through, a testament to her mental fortitude.
“Really?” she asked, voice now dripping with sarcasm. “We’re fleeing for our lives, I presume, and you’re asking menow? Don’t you think this is may be just a little bit of a bad time to propose? Couldn’t you, I don’t know, wait for a better setting?”
She smiled and her gaze went slightly unfocused, before returning to the road. “Where are we going?”
“Put the damn ring on!” he ordered, grabbing her hand.
“I don’t even have makeup on,” she protested. “The pictures will be terrible!”
Rolling his eyes, Khove shoved the ring onto her finger. The effect was almost instant. Rachel sat upright, the fog that had infected her eyes and her body language disappeared.
“What the hell was that?” she growled, stomping the accelerator down hard. “What is going on, Khove?”
“Magic.” There was no need for further explanation. “Now drive like a badass.”
“On it,” she said fiercely, taking them through a turn so quickly, he felt the truck rise up almost onto two tires only before crashing back down onto the shocks.
The buildings of the core of Plymouth Falls retreated behind them, transforming into one- or two-story shops interspersed with housing. Everything was dark.
“Where is everyone?” Rachel asked.
He could feel her nervousness, the fear strong in the air. Not that he blamed her. Khove wasn’t sure how to answer. He’d never seen anything like this, magic blanketing an entire city, sending them home, darkening the air around them.
“They’re out of the way,” he said. “So we don’t have to worry about hurting them when it comes.”
“Whenwhatcomes?” she asked, but his attention was too focused on the side view mirror, and the darkened shadow he could see charging closer with every push of its four massively muscled legs.
“The attack,” he said, reaching down to his ankle and sliding a dagger from the sheath in his boot, wishing desperately that he’d taken his sword or gun. But the police frowned upon those, and he didn’t want to get in trouble with Rachel. So he’d left them behind.
Now, his reluctance may have sealed their doom.
“Khove,” Rachel asked tightly. “What the hell is that I’m seeing in my rear view?”
“That’s a centaur,” he said, trying to remain calm. “Body of a horse, torso of a man.”
“Right. Of course it is,” she said cheerily. “Now, do you mind telling mewhat a centaur is doing catching up to my car when we’re doing seventy?”
“It’s going to attack,” he said carefully. “And I’m going to kill it.”
