Thunder Road (Rain Chaser Book 1)

by Sierra Dean

  “Seth.” The name was all I had by means of explanation. I sighed and tried not to focus on the acute pain on my back and in my head, but it was hard to think of anything else when everything hurt so much.

  Fen, who had stayed out of the way until now, hopped back onto the bed, paced the length of the mattress a half-dozen times making worried trilling noises, then curled into a ball beside me.

  “He bit me about fifteen times when I cleaning your back.” Cade held up his hands to show me the tiny needle-sized bite marks on his knuckles. “He cares about you.”

  “You bribed him.” I nodded to the full food dish.

  “Fastest way to a man’s heart. No matter what the species.”

  As if agreeing, Fen let out a little snort, his gaze laser focused on Cade. I scratched my furry sidekick behind his massive ears, and he gave a contented sigh. Soon he was snoring.

  There was no escaping an explanation. Cade was still patiently crouched in front of me, oblivious to whatever strain it must be putting on his knees, and he showed no sign of going away or being distracted by my banter.

  Not that I was on top of my chitchat game right now.

  “He’s never done that before,” I admitted. “Not like that. Normally I… Normally what I get is like a shadow of his ability. I can call the rain, summon the lightning, but I can’t, like, create a tornado from nothing. And I can’t decimate a building in one go.”

  “Well, you did.”

  I nodded. “Evidently.”

  All I was thinking was what would have happened if I’d been weaker. The feel of Seth’s power inside me was like being ripped to shreds by white-hot light. It was such a foreign, intense pain, my body was already starting to forget it. Anything short of physical denial would be too much to handle. But his power had split my skin, spilled my blood.

  He could have killed me.

  And if he had, he wouldn’t have cared.

  “Are you okay?” He put one hand on my knee, and I stared at the clover tattoo.

  “What does that mean?” I touched it, and this time he didn’t move my hand away.

  “You’re not the only one who gets used by your god, you know.”

  My finger traced the black outline of the skull. “It’s not your fault.” I wasn’t sure what I was absolving him of, but that tiny little death mark told me it wasn’t anything he would reflect upon happily. “We don’t get to say no to this. None of it.”

  This time he pulled his sleeves down, and I let my hand drop away.

  “A lot of people have died because of me,” he said. “I’m not going to let you be another one.”

  As if he had a say in it.

  “They’re all for people you…” I let my voice drift off. Killed wasn’t the right word. But he was right, bad luck was a factor in many, many deaths. “All of them are for someone different?”

  He clenched his jaw and stood. “Yes.”

  There were so many. My gaze followed him up, watching him as he stalked around the room with the fevered grace of a caged animal. I decided not to ask him anything else about it. When he grabbed my bag and started filling it with my things, I was distracted enough to change the topic.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Packing.”

  I made a face of annoyance, but he was too busy collecting my jacket from the bathroom to see it. When he threw my coat at me, I had enough wherewithal to catch it one-handed. Fen lifted his head and watched with me as Cade prowled from one area to the next.

  “What are you doing? I asked again.

  “If we’re going to get to Louisiana before Manea’s undead horde, we need to leave. Now. Unlike us, they don’t need sleep.”

  “You’re actually coming?” I knew Seth had said arrangements were already in order, but I honestly hadn’t expected Cade would be making this fool’s errand by my side.

  He gave me a funny look. “Like I’d make you do this by yourself?”

  Anyone else would have.

  What did it say about me that the only person lining up to help me was the right-hand man to Bad Luck herself?

  Chapter Nine

  We had two cars, and neither of us could agree who would drive.

  Taking both was stupid, as we would be able to double our miles if we traded off on driving shifts, but each of us was stubborn to the core and hated the idea of leaving our trusted mount behind.

  Finally, he bested me with logic by pointing out that I still needed time to recuperate, and if he was going to be doing most of the driving, we ought to do it in his car.

  I made arrangements with the temple to have someone collect my Mustang, but I wasn’t happy about it. If I didn’t have my car, it felt like I was giving up some of my control over the situation, making it less my job and more his. I didn’t like it. Control was important to me. It was the one thing I had that kept me from feeling like I was a pawn in someone else’s chess game.

  Whitefish was practically on the Canadian border, so the sun was already fully risen and beating down on us mercilessly by the time we drove through Missoula and I insisted we stop for breakfast. The crushing pain of the previous night’s events had dulled, only to be replaced with a hunger unlike anything I’d ever felt before.

  Hangry was the word people used to describe hunger that made people cranky.

  If there was a word for being an empty, bottomless pit in need of sustenance who would murder anything in her path to get to a large stack of pancakes, that was me. I was a veritable black hole.

  We stopped at the first Denny’s we could find, and Cade ordered a black coffee while I asked for pancakes, waffles, bacon, sausage, eggs, hash browns and a vanilla milkshake. “As fast as humanly possible.” My hands were shaking from lowered blood sugar, and if I didn’t get food soon, I’d start drinking from the syrup bottle.

  “I was the same way when I was expecting my first,” our waitress said, giving Cade a knowing wink. “A real bear.”

  I didn’t get a chance to correct her as she left to put in our order.

  Cade had the good grace to wait until she was gone before he let out a snort of laughter. “Congrats.”

  “Do I look pregnant?” I demanded. I glanced down at my belly to be sure, but nope, still skinny. I’d probably be too skinny if not for the muscle I had managed to accumulate. Instead I just looked like a runner.

  Cade gave me a once-over, and I was suddenly very aware of his gaze lingering on me when he said, “You do not.”

  We still had another six states to drive through. If the past twenty-four hours was any indication, we would either murder each other or fuck each other stupid before this trip was done. I honestly wasn’t sure which of those two options was more dangerous.

  The waitress returned with Cade’s coffee and my milkshake, and I was too grateful for the calories to bother correcting her. Maybe she’d bring my food faster if she thought I was eating for two.

  Cade sipped his coffee in contented silence while I ate my weight in carbs and fat, barely taking time to breathe between bites as the plates were dropped off. I was ravenous. Pancakes and eggs had never tasted so good to me before. I’d have traded just about anything for some honey garlic chicken, but it was much too early in the day to go hunting for a Chinese restaurant.

  While I ate, too focused on the food to think of anything else, Cade pulled out his phone. It occurred to me I hadn’t looked at my own in almost twenty-four hours, meaning my app requests would be astronomical. Whatever genius decided to make a digital way for people to request answers to their prayers was someone I would like to meet and introduce to my powers firsthand. Every day I got dozens of requests for things ranging from Water my flowerbeds to Flood my street so I don’t have to work tomorrow. The app also showed how much had been tithed to go along with the prayer.

  More money didn’t necessarily mean a prayer would be answered, but it did boost it to the top of the pile. Cade was scrolling through something on his phone, frowning with deep concentration. I swallow
ed a bite of sausage and asked, “Lots of requests?”

  He shook his head. “The temple took me offline when I called this morning. They’ll be dealing with things locally I guess.” He lifted his shoulders in a slight shrug.

  “Then why do you look like you’re reading your own obituary?” I dipped a slice of bacon in my leftover syrup and popped the salty-sweet perfection into my mouth.

  “I’m trying to find a birth record for this kid we’re looking for.”

  Oh. That was actually…well, that was actually super smart. My mouth was too full to say so, so I nodded approvingly. I didn’t behave like a lady at the best of times, but I wasn’t going to try carrying on a conversation while stuffing my face.

  Realizing I wasn’t going to say anything else, he added, “There’s no birth record for a Leo Marquette in the last twenty years. I can’t find him in any of the public school listings.”

  “Do they post those online for the public?” I asked.

  He gave me a sly smile. “No.”

  “So…where does that leave us?”

  “Well, there’s a Jacqueline Marquette living in LaPlace, but she has no listed dependents.”

  “Okay, you definitely didn’t find that online.”

  “Define online. Because I technically did locate it on the Internet.”

  “Criminal.”

  “I prefer to think of myself as clever, thank you.”

  “If you were so clever, you’d have found our guy.”

  “I found two Leo Marquettes in a criminal record database. Only one with a known address in Louisiana, but he’s thirty-two. Isn’t our Leo a kid?”

  It was my turn to shrug. “That’s the implication I got from Seth.” Of course time and age would be very different for a god, wouldn’t it? Could his idea of a few years actually be over three decades?

  That could explain why I’d never heard of Leo. He actually predated my time at the temple. And on Earth.

  Cade put his phone back in his jacket pocket, evidently finished with his search for the time being. “We can’t do much until we get there, but hopefully Manea’s people are under the same impression we are. If Seth’s son is actually an adult, we have more time to find him.”

  As long as Death’s goons didn’t go around killing any kids who fit the bill, this was good news. Leo being an adult would go a long way to easing my mind about Manea trying to kill a child. But it might also make bringing him to the temple a lot harder. If he was a child, we could tell Jacqueline we were there to protect him. If he was a grown man it meant I had to convince him he needed the protection of his wayward deity father. No doubt that would go over swimmingly.

  My headache was starting to return.

  Cade pulled out his wallet, but I beat him to the punch, stuffing the billfold with twenties before he was able to. He hadn’t even eaten anything, like hell I was going to let him pay for me to glut myself. That would be too much.

  Back in the car I made the triumphant error in judgment of attempting to choose the music.

  The radio was tuned to a classic rock station, and as we neared the Wyoming border it began to crackle. Not wanting to do Def Leppard a disservice by listening to “Pour Some Sugar on Me” improperly, I adjusted the knob, looking for another station that was coming through clearly.

  Garth Brooks’ “Friends in Low Places” began playing.

  Cade didn’t even give me a chance to change it before shutting off the radio entirely. “No country in the car.”

  “I wasn’t—”

  “No. Country. In. The. Car.” His expression was dead serious, hand covering the power so I couldn’t turn it back on.

  “This would not be an issue if you had an iPod adapter like a normal human being.”

  He huffed and dropped his hand, but looked ready to cover the button at a moment’s notice if I made a move.

  And that’s how we went through half a state in complete silence.

  We switched drivers near the Wyoming border, I think mostly because he was getting sick of me fidgeting in the seat next to him. The second I got into the driver’s seat I popped a cassette into the deck before he could stop me. Bon Jovi started to sing “Livin’ on a Prayer.” I could tell he wanted to argue, but when I pulled my hand back from the tape deck, he didn’t eject it.

  I’d take my victories where I found them. I knew there was a reason I kept tapes in my purse in case my adapter crapped out.

  Just over the Colorado border, our good luck ran out.

  I should have known it was only a matter of time, considering who my copilot was, but I thought perhaps we might get a pass on the bad tidings since he wasn’t actively working a job.

  A flat tire was the first sign the tides were shifting in an unfortunate way.

  That we got the flat on a barren strip of highway, miles from any assistance, was the next sign of ill tidings.

  I pulled the car over to the side of the road, and we got out, assessing the damage. We’d been driving for over fourteen hours, and the mounting stress of our situation was starting to wear on both of us. At least that’s what I told myself when Cade took one look at the flat tire and snarled.

  He didn’t use actual words to express his annoyance, but as he went to the trunk and started rifling around—I assumed for the spare tire—he kept making irritated grunting noises, like the English language didn’t have any sufficient turns of phrase to get his point across.

  When he returned with the donut spare and a jack, I moved to take the tire from him, but he elbowed me out of the way a little too roughly, sending me staggering back a few steps to the guardrail.

  That was the last straw.

  “Hey.” I came back up to his side, where he was now crouched next to the flat, setting up the jack. He pretended not to hear me and continued working, his entire focus fixated on the car. “Dude, drop the macho act. It’s not impressing anyone.”

  He was on his feet in a flash, suddenly mere inches from me, breathing hard.

  Oops.

  “This is not an act. This is not me trying to impress you.” His voice was low and vaguely threatening, but something deep inside my body went tight, and goose bumps erupted on my arms in spite of the sticky-hot night air. He was much, much too close to me.

  “Sorry.”

  Cade gave me a hard stare, and we stood there for a moment, neither daring to move an inch, sharing the same breath as we struggled to decide exactly what this standoff was meant to prove. Finally he yielded with a frustrated snort and went back to the jack.

  “Hand me the tire iron.” He held out his hand.

  As far as I could tell, this was the closest thing I was going to get to friendliness, so I collected the tire iron from the trunk. I was about to return to him when the fine hairs on the back of my neck stood on end.

  Whatever it was I was sensing, I wasn’t the only one. Cade froze, his hands on the jack but not moving, as though he was worried any minor adjustment might make him lose what he was listening for.

  “Do you feel that?” he asked, turning his attention to me. His voice was so quiet it almost carried away on the breeze before reaching my ears.

  I nodded, my grip tightening on the tire iron. The sun was hanging low, dipping behind the tree line, creating a moody, cool light. Still miles off, a line of clouds had begun to build, marring the previously clear sky. They weren’t a sign of Seth’s arrival, just normal clouds, yet their presence soothed me slightly.

  If something was coming for us, it would help to have a source for me to draw power from. I really didn’t want to channel lightning again so soon, not after two such intense encounters yesterday. My body wasn’t a machine. I needed rest and recuperation. If I maintained this pace, I was going to shave twenty years off my life expectancy before we reached Louisiana.

  Cade was standing again, coming towards me. When he was by my side, I eased my grip on the tire iron but kept the metal bar raised. I didn’t know what was setting my inner alarm bells off, but it paid to
be vigilant.

  “Manea?” Cade asked.

  I shook my head, scanning the barren highway. We hadn’t seen a single car since we’d pulled over, which now that I thought about it was pretty strange, even for a road that wasn’t a massive interstate. Surely a semi would have passed by now, or at least one or two other cars, right?

  “Manea’s power feels different,” I explained. “Colder.”

  Not that this sensation was exactly warm and fuzzy, but it didn’t have the same cool, clammy unease the presence of Death did. That didn’t mean I wasn’t unnerved by whatever this was though. It was familiar, but not so much I could name it, like something I should know but couldn’t put my finger on.

  Cade, too, was apparently struggling to make sense of it.

  “I should finish changing the tire.”

  I nodded, but my eyes stayed locked on the highway, waiting for something to come around the bend at any moment. A ruffle of wing beats drew my attention up, and I spotted a crow flying overhead right before it landed on the guardrail near me. Its beady black eyes trained on me, full of intelligence and maybe the tiniest bit of condescension.

  Crows are smart.

  But this was no normal crow.

  “Badb.” Just when I thought Cade was going to be the worst omen I’d encounter on this trip. Bad luck was one thing. Badb luck was a whole other kettle of stinking, rotten fish.

  The crow cocked its head, and its eyes gleamed. It stretched its wings, nipping at a feather and preening until it shone glossily in the dying light. It cawed at me, catching Cade’s notice.

  He glanced at it, then did a double take before coming to his feet. Badb and Cade knew each other well. I’m pretty sure she was secretly bitter about him being bound to Ardra instead of her. Their paths were similar, and Cade would have fit well beneath Badb’s wing. Which I think she reminded him of often.

  The bird made a creaky gargling sound and cawed twice.

  I glanced around, wondering if her sisters were lurking anywhere, but bless the gods she appeared to be by herself. Badb was one thing. I didn’t also need the burden of dealing with the rest of the Morrigan.