by Kim Harrison
“Peri!” Cam’s voice was warm and concerned, making her feel guilty. She’d forgotten all about him. “I half expected your voicemail. I was calling to ask you the same thing.”
Jack opened his mouth, and she jiggled her grip on the phone so she could aim the Glock at him. Grimacing, he changed his mind. The shot would be awkward with one hand, but at this range, even a miss would hurt. “Could be better,” she said. Hurry up, Silas. “How’s Carnac?”
“Fine. Do you have a better idea of when you’ll be picking him up?”
She could hear the soft patter of a news program and the whirr of a can opener. He was working from home, then. “Uh, no. Sorry.” Jack was laughing at her, and her face flamed. “Hey, this actually isn’t a good time,” she said when Jack draped his arm over the back of the seat so he could hear better.
“You’ve got a strange man cat sitting for us?” Jack asked loudly.
“There is no us,” she whispered harshly, phone to her shoulder to block her voice. Then to Cam, “Can I call you back?”
“Sure, no problem.” He sounded embarrassed. “You are coming back. Right?”
Peri half turned away to hide her flush from Jack. “Right.” But even as she said it, she knew she was never going to return to the coffeehouse again—apart from clearing out the weapon’s stash, maybe. The peace she’d found there was gone. Bill had stolen it, and she had let him.
“You’re not coming back,” Cam said flatly, and Jack, hearing everything, smiled cattily.
“Cam,” she pleaded, hating Jack for seeing this. “I want to.”
“No, I got it,” Cam said, his tone almost hiding the hurt. “Don’t worry about Carnac. He’s a good cat. I’ll take care of him.”
“Cam— Hey!” she exclaimed when Jack yanked the phone from her.
“God, Cam,” Jack said, laughing as he fended her off. “Give the woman a break. She’s got a lot on her mind right now.”
“Knock it off!” Smacking Jack smartly, she got the phone and settled into the front seat. “Cam?” But he was gone, and she hit the end icon in disgust. “Did he hear you?”
Still smiling, Jack shrugged. “He sounds as if he’s got money. Is he nice?”
Her head was pounding, and she glanced at the convenience store and the flickering e-board ads as she considered calling him back. But what would be the point? “Let’s play the quiet game, okay?” she said as she put her phone away.
Jack’s smile grew wider. “Why are we in this piece of crap?” he asked, kicking the back of the seat. “I think someone threw up back here.”
“Because I normally wouldn’t touch it, and the less I am of myself, the longer I’ll survive,” she said sarcastically as she tucked the Glock away. If he left now, she’d let him get halfway across the parking lot before she shot him in the back—the government’s high-Q drones dropping in and out be damned.
The satchel was beside her, and she moved it to the floor out of Jack’s easy reach. It shouldn’t take this long to turn bills to p-cash, and worry tightened her shoulders. “Why did you agree to take Michael’s place at the arena?” she finally asked.
“Ahh, thinking at last, eh?” he said, eyeing her from under his lowered brow.
“Never mind,” she muttered, turning her back on him.
“Aww, come on, Peri,” he coaxed as he leaned over the seat again. “Don’t you get it? I’m not here for Bill. I’m here for you. After you get your Evocane from LB, why don’t we just run?”
“Run?” she said bitterly as she fingered her coat’s zipper. The familiar scent of Jack’s aftershave plinked through her, triggering half memories that lingered to feed her doubt. They’d been good together. It was in the way he knew just what to say; she had sensed it when they had escaped. She could feel it in her soul as clearly as she could feel Silas’s longing for her to remember.
“Why not?” he said, sounding reasonable. “Just put the car in drive, go to the arena, get the Evocane. And . . . leave.” He hesitated. “With me,” he finished softly. Vulnerably.
He made it sound easy. That’s all she wanted. Peace.
Hearing cracks in her resolve within the silence, he edged closer. She dropped her head into her hand, pushing at her temples as her head throbbed. “I can get you through the next twenty-four hours,” he urged. “If you want, I can bring it all back. Or we can just start from where we are now. How about it? We’d be free. We could do what we want. Stay off the grid.”
It hurt so bad, she had to close her eyes.
“It will be better than before,” he coaxed. “Just the two of us. And Carnac. We can pick him up on the way out. Wherever you want to go.”
She jerked, her eyes clamped shut when his hesitant touch landed on her shoulder. Emboldened, his fingers searched, moving until they found the trigger point in her shoulder, and he gently pressed, relaxing her. Her eyes began to jerk, wanting to slip into REM.
“I know you better than anyone, Peri,” he whispered. “We had a good life. We can start over with just the good stuff in it this time, none of the bad. No WEFT. No Opti. Just us. Remember how good it was?”
She didn’t, but her body did, and her throat closed at the chance to find a peace that never existed. Her eyes opened, and with her focus blurry with regret, she whispered, “I’m going crazy.”
“Not with me around,” Jack said, lips inches from her ear and his whispered words sending her thoughts in a new direction as he’d done a hundred times before.
She stiffened.
Jack’s hands sprang away and he flung himself to the back of the car as she turned, her swinging backhand just missing him. “Don’t touch me,” she demanded.
“If that’s what you want,” he said casually from the back, but it didn’t feel like a win.
His eyes flicked past her to the store, and she turned, relieved when Silas’s heavy but trim form jogged across the lot, dodging the incoming Nightwing, the car as sleek and powerful as old Detroit. “It is,” she said, starting the Pinto and putting it into drive.
“He’s not your magic bag of rocks, babe. I am.”
“Leaving you dead in this car is still an option.” Leaning, she unlocked Silas’s door.
Jack sprawled over the seat, putting his face inches from hers. “I know you. You fight it, thinking it makes you a better person. But you are who you are. And the sooner you accept that, the happier you’ll be. What the hell is wrong with being happy? You don’t owe anyone anything.”
He retreated as Silas opened the door, leaving her alone with her thoughts as he slid in.
“Sorry it took so long,” Silas said, and she hit the accelerator. Drawn by the noise, the old couple getting out of the Nightwing looked up from their phones. “LB called, and I wanted to take it,” he added as he lurched for the swinging door, finally getting it shut as she hit a bump. “Are we in a hurry?”
“Too many cameras,” she said as she looked both ways and bounced onto the street as if no one else was on it. The tiny engine puttered, hardly moving as it spewed a blue smoke. God, I miss my Mantis.
“You kept your phone, too?” Jack said from the back, the click of his belt obvious. “We are so caught.”
Silas gave him a dry look. “I’m beginning to understand why you’re upset at me for making him the focus of your hallucinations,” he said, then louder, “Allen checked it out before I left. Cleaned it. I’m not stupid.”
“No, but Allen is,” Jack smart-mouthed. “If Michael doesn’t kill you, Peri, Denier will.”
Peri’s grip tightened on the wheel; she wanted to weave through traffic but was hardly able to keep up. Why did I want this POS? Am I punishing myself?
“I’m not going to kill Peri,” Silas said, looking cramped in the front seat of the tiny car.
“You can’t help it,” Jack said. He appeared marginally more comfortable in the backseat. “She’ll trust you, and you won’t be up for the task, and you will get her killed.”
The upcoming light changed to yellow, b
ut the thought of sitting unmoving was unbearable. Jerking the wheel sharply, she wove around the slowing car ahead of her to make the light, glancing back to see whether a traffic drone was chasing her down for a shot of her license plate. It wasn’t, and she exhaled, settling into the tired, worn vinyl. “I’m tired of pulling myself off the grid every time we need to stop for munchies,” she muttered.
Not liking her weave-and-accelerate, Silas put his belt on. “Better that than waking up tomorrow thinking you’re Suzy Homemaker.”
“I’m not going to scrub her,” Jack said, his words going right to her core and twisting.
“Will both of you shut up? I can’t remember if the arena is up or down from here,” Peri said.
Silas gave Jack a look, clearly thinking he’d won something. “Down, but keep going uptown,” he said, and she shifted lanes erratically to take the next right. “We aren’t going to the arena. Thank God.”
“Why not?”
“LB doesn’t want you down there.” Silas gripped the door handle, clearly uncomfortable with how close she was to the bumper of the car ahead of her.
“He used it all?” she said in disbelief, but Silas was shaking his head.
“He doesn’t want you near his people. He’s waiting for us at Roosevelt Park.”
Peri exhaled in relief, not caring that Jack was learning just how freaked out she was about needing that Evocane. “Fine,” she said, thinking it was a good spot. Lots of ways out, lots of ways in. He’d find her.
But even as Peri drove crosstown, doubt began to trickle through her, born from a lack of intel. The interstate would be faster, but the entrance ramps had cameras. They’d sat too long in that parking lot. As much as she wanted to trust Allen, she knew that if someone was going to bug you, they’d find a way.
Rosa Parks Boulevard was busy, and no one would let her over, the dilapidated state of the Pinto doing her no favors. “I hate Detroit traffic!” she shouted, leaning on the horn. “We should have just taken the necklace. We would have been there by now!”
“You mind if I drive?” Silas offered, and Peri scoffed, shifting gears as if it was a race car. “No, really,” he said again, pale. “There’s a station right there.”
Jack spun to look out the back window. “No, don’t!” he exclaimed, tense as he looked the way they’d come. “I know that guy.”
Sweet adrenaline poured into her, banishing her worry like the extravagant luxury it was. Eyes bright, she looked behind her at the black car, meeting Jack’s gaze in the rearview mirror. The sly anticipation in his expression was familiar, kindling a long-muted desire to outlast the odds until they shifted to their favor. “Go. Now. Fast,” he said, and she quivered, the silver sensation born from a thousand forgotten tasks. It felt like home.
She couldn’t get into the right lane, but she could cross the boulevard to the other side. Teeth clenched, she jerked the wheel.
“Peri!” Silas shouted as she jumped the curb, tearing up the frozen landscape as she bounced into the eastbound lane, horns honking and tires squealing behind her. “God bless it. This was just what I was trying to avoid!”
“They echoed!” Jack exclaimed, and she hit the gas, the car hardly moving. “I told you we should have taken the BMW. This thing can’t run worth crap!”
“I didn’t want the fricking BMW!” Peri leaned on the horn, and people began to move. But it only made it easier for the guy behind them. They caught up fast, but she began to smile, her pulse fast and easy.
Silas braced himself against the dash. “Don’t antagonize them,” he said, seeing the gleam in her eye. “Please?”
“But that’s the best part, Silas,” she said slyly. The truth was, though, if she didn’t shake them in forty seconds, the cops would be on them as well. Which might not be a bad idea, actually.
“Stairs!” Jack pointed out, and Silas gasped when she jumped the curb and took the wide, shallow steps down into a new downtown commerce court. The smaller car might make it where the bigger car following them wouldn’t.
“Are they still with us?” she stammered in time with the steps, her breath coming in a heave when they hit the end with a scrape. She accelerated, people jumping out of the way and staring. A high-Q traffic drone swung in behind them, its stabilizers screaming louder than the siren. “Jack! Are they with us!”
Jack looked out the back window, ducking at the squeal of brakes and pop of weapons. “Dude, they’re serious. Can you squeeze out a few more miles per hour?”
“No.” Her hands were sweating, and it felt wonderful.
“Ahh, it’s a pedestrian mall,” Silas said, voice thick with panic as he realized where they were. “There’s no way out. Peri? Peri!”
“Then we make one. Coming about!” she exclaimed, jerking the wheel to the right to the new construction, blocked off with a temporary chain-link fence.
“Peri!” Silas shouted, and she locked her arms as they rammed it, hitting the gas to make the snow spurt up behind them as the gate flipped and swung. Bouncing over the ruts, they rocked through the construction site and back onto the service road behind it. The drone came even, and Peri waved when it got a good image of them and dropped back.
“They’re still there,” Silas said, slumping in his seat as they sped past Dumpsters and parked employee cars. “That didn’t slow them down at all. We need the interstate.”
“This car can’t run for shit,” Jack said in disgust. “The interstate is a death trap.”
“Which is exactly what we want.” Peri smiled as she recognized where she was. Roosevelt Park was a few miles up the road. Perfect. “We need to get rid of WEFT. Jack, full moon tonight?”
“Wha-a-at?” he stammered as she revved the engine hard, horn blowing as she skidded to a halt in front of a café, window rolled down as she screamed obscenities and waved a finger in the air at the cop car parked outside.
“Peri, you promised,” Silas complained as a second traffic drone joined the first, the human voice projecting from it demanding they stop and wait for Detroit personnel.
“No, I didn’t.” She was breathless, and the tires squealed as she took off in the other direction, headed for the interstate. They’d follow.
“That did it,” Jack said, arms braced as she swerved through traffic. “You got ’em.”
“You got them?” Silas exclaimed, his face pale. “You want the cops on our ass?”
“For the moment,” she said, grinning wildly. “Jack?”
He looked behind them, eyes bright. “Find some space. They won’t act if it’s crowded.”
“Expressway on the right.”
Silas’s expression brightened. “You’re going to have the cops get rid of WEFT?”
Her head bobbed and she milked a few miles per hour out of the puttering engine. Grinning, she waited until the last moment to turn onto the expressway, skidding to cut off a gold Cadillac. It lay on the horn, but she floored it, feeling the WEFT car creeping up behind her as the traffic drones fell behind, unable to keep up. Far behind were sirens, but they had radios, and once she was committed to one direction, they’d take steps.
“Would it help if I got out and pushed?” Jack asked, his arms draped over the seat.
“Maybe,” she said, but her smile never dimmed even as Silas’s face paled.
“Well, they’d better hustle,” Jack complained. “This car doesn’t have enough power. We should have taken the BMW.”
“Will you get off my case about the BMW!” Peri jerked the wheel to give the WEFT car pulling up beside them a little love tap. The five men in it looked affronted, and she hit them again when one of them pulled a weapon. Don’t you dare shoot at me.
“Peri?” Silas warned, but the cops had finally caught up and people were pulling their cars to the side, making it easier to maneuver.
“Wait for it. Wait for it . . .” she muttered, smacking the wheel in success when the WEFT car chasing them began to quickly decelerate. “There they go!” she exclaimed, trying to coax a
few more miles per hour from the choking Pinto as the WEFT car stalled, a victim of technology. If Jack had an app to steal it, it was a good bet the cops had one to bring it down.
Exhilarated, she looked behind them and the four cop cars swarming over the WEFT vehicle. Two more followed her, the unchanging distance between them saying they had something to slow her down, something more mundane than remotely shutting off the car’s computer.
“Okay,” Jack said moodily. “You were right. The BMW was a bad idea.”
“Man, I hope I remember this,” she whispered, wondering just how far they’d get before the TV helicopter showed.
“Park coming up,” she said, spotting the sign. “Silas, grab what you want to keep.”
“We’re going to outrun them on foot?” he questioned as he felt his pockets. His eyes were wide, and she felt a pang through her.
“Oh, look,” Jack pointed out casually. “Two cops on the exit ramp and one on the overpass.”
“Not using the exit ramp,” she said, alive as she sent tendrils of thought out into the universe, reading the currents of time, nestling a hole in it that she could use. “Ready?”
“Oh. Shit,” Silas whispered, hands braced on the dash. “She’s going to do it again.”
“Spike strip!” Jack shouted as it slid out from behind the overpass. Hands clenched, she swerved.
“Too tight!” Jack called out. “Too tight!”
“I can see that!” she exclaimed, losing control as one wheel hit the spike strip and they skidded, the back end sliding majestically into a pylon.
They rocked to a halt, and Peri looked up, heart pounding. Outside, the cops screeched to a halt, weapons pointed and the men screaming at them to get out. Her nose wrinkled. Gas?
“This is one of the retrofitted Pintos, right?” Jack asked.
And then the back end exploded.
Instinct jerked into play. Peri’s vision shifted blue, and she cried out, a stab of pain slicing through her forehead. And then . . . she drafted.