Page 54 of Bad Moon Rising
“Doesn’t matter. Something to ensure we didn’t survive.”
“Those poor people. They didn’t deserve—”
“It’s unacceptable collateral damage, but whoever did this didn’t care. Hold on…” He ran into the smoldering building and returned in the blink of an eye. Superspeed move. “There aren’t survivors. We can’t do anything for them.” He knelt next to her. “Stay here behind this car. If anyone approaches you that isn’t me, fight.” He tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “Your hearing will go back to normal in a few minutes. If you were human, it might take a few days, but—”
“Where are you going?”
“To find the assassin.”
She gripped his biceps, not wanting to let him out of her sight. “I can—”
“Stay. Don’t move. I’m faster without you. I’ll be back.” In a blink, he was gone, her hands clutching only air.
She drew her knees up and rested her chin on top of them. For endless minutes, she waited. The killers weren’t going to stop coming after her until she died—or at least until the king said she was dead or rescinded the contract. Would they want to see her body after she was dead to prove her gone?
Sirens sounded in the distance. She couldn’t be here when the police arrived.
Her butt hurt as much as her head when she moved, but she peeked around the car. No one nearby, but she could see flashing lights
This car… Could she hotwire a car? She peeked through the window of the mid-90s white Peugeot. Sensation prickled the back of her neck and gathered in her lower back. It wasn’t so much warning as conviction. She removed the key from her bra, the best place to store important items when not carrying a purse.
Sensation zipped through her ear. The annoying ringing stopped—thank goodness for lycan healing. As she rounded the car, she muttered an incantation that came into her head.
“My goal lies beyond the teeming main,
voyaging well beyond the abounding sea;
fear will not steal my strength,
I need the key of Glen Bolcain.”
She shoved the key into the driver’s side door. The lock didn’t budge.
Then what was that incantation about?
Knocking out the glass seemed reasonable, but using a naked elbow would hurt, and she liked these new shoes too much to sacrifice one of them.
Roman appeared on the passenger side and shoved his leather-protected elbow through the glass. He brushed glass out of the seat and leaned over to unlock the driver’s side.
“Can you hotwire a car?” he asked. “That’s Flynn’s specialty, not mine.
“I don’t know.” She stared at the car and nothing came to her.
“Sirens are getting closer,” he prompted.
“I don’t know what to do with wires and shit.” She muttered the incantation again and shoved the key into the ignition. It turned. The engine rolled over once, sputtered and stopped. That was the car’s fault, not the spell. She pumped the gas pedal and turned the ignition switch again; the car sputtered to life.
“How’d you do that?” he asked.
“It’s the key of Bolcain.” She pointed at the key in the ignition before she shoved the car in gear and zipped out of the alley between arriving emergency vehicles.
“Of course it is,” he said sarcastically. “What the hell is that?”
“No clue, but it just turned on the car. The info on how to make it work kind of bubbled up inside my head. I figured I’d go with it.” She dodged emergency vehicles headed up the street and turned quickly to drive away from them. “Did you get whoever tossed the grenade?”
“Yes.”
When he said no more, she asked, “And?”
