Erin pulled a broken portion of the fence away, exposing a three-foot gap. Angie crawled under, and Erin followed; then they moved through the warehouse's courtyard, the air pungent with spoiled fruit and buzzing with flies. Erin led her to a loading dock above an access road. Just below the dock sat an ancient garbage truck that must have weighed two tons. The truck had been parked with its tailgate up to the dock for ease of loading.
Rowan knelt behind a stack of wooden crates at the edge of the dock, peering forward. Angie knelt beside him and saw what he was staring at. Across the courtyard, maybe twenty meters away, was another chain-link fence, but on the other side of the fence, no more than eighty meters away, was an access road that led straight to the southern maintenance gates.
They had made it.
Now they just needed to get past the gates without getting shot.
Angie considered the gates, a pair of corrugated steel doors flanked by concrete guard towers in the city wall that extended in both directions. Sentries walked the wall carrying lanterns just as they did in Sanwa City, always on the alert for Ferals. A lantern illuminated the gates, and in its glow, Angie saw shadows moving—more guards.
Rowan placed his lips near Angie's ear, and his thick mustache tickled her skin. "That's our way out—but we're going to have to go loud. The moment we try to open the gates, every sentry on the wall is going to know about it. They may even be padlocked."
"Assume they are."
The gates to Sanwa City were always locked, the keys kept with the captain of the guard so that a traitor couldn’t betray the city. In addition, the gates in Sanwa City were wired with a battery-powered alarm that, if not disabled first, would go off. They had no way of knowing if Canyon City had the same security measures, but it made sense. The Nortenos were more than competent.
"I'm gonna take that truck and ram it through the gates. You and the others are gonna need to ride like a dragon is on your ass."
She nodded, her breath quickening as her gaze darted to the ancient truck. They should have time to gallop through.
"There's two guards on duty, but there'll be men in those towers, and they might have scoped rifles or a heavy machine gun. We can't see them from this angle, but I was hoping maybe you could…"
She inhaled deeply, understanding why Erin had come back for her. "I'll need to get closer."
His eyes flashed as he nodded, taking her wrist. "Stay low." He rose, pulling her with him, and they both dropped down onto the open bed of the garbage truck. They climbed over its side and slipped forward to the chain-link fence opposite the access road. Close enough, she decided.
She closed her eyes and focused her life-sense ability. A pair of guards on the ground near the gates shone like beacons. Then she focused her awareness on the towers, picking out the two man-sized life-forms at the top of the towers. "Four," she whispered, holding four fingers up. "Two out front and one in each tower."
Rowan squeezed her shoulder, and then they made their way back to Erin. He put his lips near Angie’s ear again. "Go get Casey. He and Erin can take out the sentries in the towers before I ram the gates. You and Jay need to lead all the horses. Can you manage that?"
"No killing," Angie whispered, her voice rising an octave.
"No killing," he agreed. "Just listen for the big fuck-off crash when I ram the gate."
She shook her head. "No. I'll drive the truck."
"Gonna have to plow through those doors at speed, Angie. I can jump clear."
"And maybe you break your neck. I won't need to jump. My shade will protect me."
Rowan considered her, his gaze uncertain.
"Not a great plan," Erin told Rowan sharply, her displeasure clear.
Rowan inhaled deeply, running his fingers over the ends of his mustache as he considered Angie. Then he nodded, turning to Erin. "Angie drives."
"This is a bad—"
"Give her a chance to help."
Erin grimaced, but Angie reached out and squeezed her hand. "I got it. Trust me. My shade is special."
Erin sighed but held her hand out. "Give me your rifle and sword then. They’ll just get in your way. I'll strap them to your horse."
Angie removed her weapons, handing them to Erin. She felt naked without Nightfall, but Erin was right. In the tight confines of the truck’s cab, the weapons would only get in her way. Erin slipped out of sight, leaving Angie to stare at the ancient truck.
She had never been much of a driver.
Angie waited with Rowan while Erin slipped back to tell Jay and Casey the plan. Sweat trickled down her back. In theory, the Other would keep her safe, but usually, shades only needed to guard against gunfire and mundane weapons. A car crash was asking a lot. And not just a car crash, she mused, but a huge truck turned into a battering ram. This might be a bad idea.
Just then, Erin returned, and there was no more time for second or third thoughts. Rowan glanced at Angie, and she nodded. He and Erin rose, Rowan pointing at the two guards in front of the gate and then the right-hand tower. Erin nodded in understanding. Then they slipped forward, two shadows in the night. Adrenaline coursed through Angie’s blood, but strangely, she felt calm, her every sense heightened.
I’m getting used to battle, she realized. Is that a good thing?
Without slowing, Rowan and Erin leaped right over the chain-link fence, a height of at least six feet, and landed noiselessly on the other side before bolting straight for the maintenance gates. Each collided with a sentry at the same moment, dropping both with meaty thuds. Then they split apart, each slipping inside one of the two towers.
Time to move, Angie.
She slipped forward, dropping onto the bed of the truck. Part of her felt she was out of her depth, but she was done letting others take all the risks.
Angie climbed over the truck’s bed and made her way to the cab, grimacing at the squeal of rusty metal as she opened its door. Hurry, Angie. She slid behind the steering wheel. There was no ignition key, but she hadn’t expected there to be one. After A-Day, anything that still ran did so without a modern electrical system, and keys only slowed down the ability to share those vehicles that could still run. She sat low in the cab, shoved the drive into neutral, and primed the gas, which she could just reach with her foot. Then she gripped the universal keying device, a hand-held lever soldered to the old ignition system, and cranked it clockwise. The engine whined, far more loudly than she had expected.
But it didn't turn over.
The pit of her stomach fell, and she cranked the lever once more, her face heating with frustration. "Goddamn it, start!"
Once again, no ignition.
She forced herself to resist pumping the gas again, fearing she’d flood the engine. She closed her eyes, offered a quick prayer, and turned the universal lever once more. This time, the engine exploded to life with a meaty roar, the exhaust belching a cloud of black smoke.
Thank you, God.
She rammed the vehicle into first gear, all she’d need, and hit the gas, running the truck at the chain-link fence. The fence came loose in the jarring impact and hung under her bumper, scraping and throwing off sparks as she floored the gas pedal, trying to gain as much speed as she could in the short distance. Her vision tunneled in on the gates as she remembered she hadn’t even bothered to check if there was a seat belt.
The truck hit a ramp that led up to the gates, and it leaped into the air. Her stomach lurched, and she gripped the steering wheel so hard she thought it would snap. The truck hammered into the gates with shocking force, bursting them apart with a deafening boom. She flew forward, unable to even think about holding on, but the Other must have been on point, because all she saw was a bright flash of magical energy, and instead of flying through the windshield, she found that a magic barrier cocooned her in place.
The truck punched past the gates like a battering ram and kept going for another fifty feet before Angie realized she still had her foot on the gas. She removed it just as the truck skidded o
ut of control, flipping over onto its side. Her vision exploded with light as the Other shielded her.
She must have blacked out, because when she came to, she was lying on her side, pressed up against the driver's door and staring at the shattered windshield. She shook her head, trying to remember what she was doing here. As if from far away, she heard the two-tone cry of an alarm siren.
Movement. Horses galloped past the shattered windshield, hooves thudding.
Then shards of glass fell on her from above, and she covered her face with her arm as someone finished breaking the passenger's-side window. A person dropped down beside her through the empty window frame.
Jay. It was Jay.
He didn't speak, just lifted her up, practically throwing her into the waiting arms of Casey above, who hoisted her up and onto the ground as if she were a toddler. The horses were there, as were Rowan and Erin.
Erin dismounted, holding both her reins as well as Angie's. "Are you okay?" she yelled.
Why is she yelling? Then Angie realized how loud the siren was. "I … yes, I'm fine." And she was, she realized. There didn’t seem to be a mark on her. Once again, the Other had kept her alive.
Erin helped her into Cobble's saddle. She heard a burst of assault rifle fire and turned to see Casey, now atop his own horse, firing his weapon into the air, sending a group of Norteno soldiers near the ruined gates running away. Casey roared with laughter, clearly having too much fun.
"Ride!" Rowan yelled.
They galloped into the night.
Chapter 17
With Erin once again in the lead, Angie and the others galloped after her. Angie bent low in her saddle, her chest tight with fear that in the darkness, her mare, Cobble, might step in a hole and break her leg—and Angie’s neck. She needn’t have worried; the Seagraves saw well enough to lead the mounts onto firm ground. Behind them rose the excited cries of the Norteno soldiers. Flares lit up the night, but the fugitives rode hard for the trees. Minutes later, all Angie heard was the pounding of their horses’ hooves.
They had gotten away—so far.
They rode north, into the rolling hills that led to the Cuyamaca Mountains. On the other side of those mountains was the Commonwealth, their former home. Rowan wanted the Nortenos to think they were going home, that perhaps they were double agents who had only pretended to be fleeing. With luck, the Nortenos would keep the helicopter and wash their hands of Angie and the Seagraves.
If they weren’t lucky, the Nortenos would come after them hard, with spare mounts.
Lately, Angie didn’t feel all that lucky.
After about an hour of hard riding, Erin slowed her mount to a brisk canter, and the other horses followed her example. Angie glanced at her family watch and saw it was already after five a.m. In the east, a red sliver of dawn lightened the horizon. Rowan rode beside Erin, speaking softly to her, and Jay caught up to Angie. Casey rode last, watching their rear.
"You okay?" Jay asked.
"I'm fine." And she was, just still a bit shaken from the crash. She looked over her shoulder but saw nothing other than the dark form of Casey on his horse. She lowered her voice. "You think they'll follow us?"
"Yes," Rowan said from ahead, his back to her. "But it'll take them some time to get organized."
"Be on us like stink on a troll," Casey said, sounding disturbingly excited by the prospect.
Angie sniffed. "Trolls don't stink. They're very hygienic. Smell better than we do."
Jay chuckled and looked back over his shoulder at Casey, amusement in his eyes. "Better than you is what she really means. Jesus, wash your pits, you friggin’ orangutan."
"Screw you." Casey snarled, but in the predawn light, Angie saw him lift his arm and sniff.
She smiled, feeling strangely happy.
A half hour after the fugitives escaped, Mago Adepto Shane Harper was bent over a table in the TOC, studying a map of the region. General Gálvez, his arm in a sling, his head wrapped in a bandage, stormed into the room. The radio operator, who had been in the middle of issuing patrol orders over the radio, jumped to attention, as did Shane, who then saluted. "Sir."
Gálvez waved his hand in a gesture vaguely like a salute before joining Shane at the map, his eyes scanning the markings Shane had been making with his pencil. "What do we know, Mago Adepto?"
"Yes, sir. The prisoners escaped through the compound's rear supply gate."
Gálvez's face twisted in distaste. "How?"
"They broke the padlock, sir. Snapped it right off."
"They had access to tools?"
"Not that we know of. It seems they're ... stronger than we realized."
Gálvez made an angry growl in his throat. "And they stole horses, too?"
"Yes, sir."
"And no one saw anything? How is that possible?"
Shane sighed, picking up on the not-so-subtle accusatory tone that seemed to lay the blame on him as the senior Brujas mage now that Tavi had left. Senile old prick, he thought but wisely chose his words with care. When he answered, his voice dripped with respect. "They were not prisoners, sir. We never had them under guard. The Mago Commandante herself gave them the freedom of the compound. Nor do we watch the stables. Besides, after the assassination attempts—"
"Attempt, Mago Adepto. For all we know, the attack on the Ritter woman was nothing more than a ruse to throw us off."
"Yes, sir." Shane didn't point out that such a ruse would have necessitated two vampires giving up their own lives, but there was little profit in poking holes in the general’s theories. "They stole weapons from the armory and then used a truck to ram the Water Gates."
Gálvez stared incredulously at Shane. "They stole weapons?"
"They are werewolves, sir, the best troops in the Commonwealth."
Gálvez sighed, running his fingers over his face as he stared at the map. "Where are they going?"
"North, toward the foothills at the southern end of the Cuyamaca Mountains."
Gálvez swore angrily and then pounded the map with his fist. "They're going home, then. This ... defection was nonsense."
"I don't know, sir. Our agents in Sanwa City report that the other Shrikes at the Bunker were destroyed. By all accounts, the Coasties are out for their blood. If this was all a trick, then it was costly one, and I don't know what it accomplished. They left their helicopter here. Something does not add up."
"Maybe," Gálvez spat, "but maybe they've been playing us all along. Think about it. They arrive just before the strange 'werewolf' attacks on our outposts. Then we lose both the Mago Commandante and the Jaguar Knight? We almost lost you as well, son. It's all too convenient."
"Sir," Shane said softly, "maybe you're right. But what are they doing?"
"Doing? They're trying to run home."
"Don't you find it a bit suspicious that they sneak away the same night that Mago Diputado Navarro departs on a secret mission?"
Gálvez's eyes narrowed, and he stared coldly at Shane. "What exactly are you saying, son? Are you making an accusation against the Mago Diputado?"
An undercurrent of panic coursed through Shane when he saw the anger in the older man's eyes. Had he gone too far? "No, sir. Of course, I'm not accusing Tavi—the Mago Diputado—of anything. I'm suggesting you may be right about the mage and the werewolves, and that they've decided to kill Mago Diputado Navarro as well. If … if you can tell me anything about her mission, where she went, maybe I can do more to help her."
Gálvez stared at the map, tracing the route the escapees were taking with his finger. Then his finger drifted to the east, in the direction of Mount Laguna, coming to a stop on the Pine Valley settlement. Gálvez shook his head. "No. No, they're going the other way. They’re not after her."
Shane saw the relief in the general’s face, but he had also noted where the general’s finger fell on the map. Pine Valley, but what’s so important about a farming collective? "Can we be certain of that, General? By all accounts, they are gifted trackers, and the mage is .
.. well, you need to see what she did to our library. The stories about her would seem to be accurate."
Gálvez snorted angrily. "We need the fugitives back. If this is all a trick, I won't let them get away with it. If it isn't, then I still need to give them back to Marshal." He met Shane's eyes. "I want you personally to lead the hunt, Mago Adepto Harper. Take all the men you need, but stop them from getting away. I know you were hurt recently, but are you up to the task?"
"I am, sir," Shane said, feeling the hand of fate at play. He could go after Tavi as well as the fugitives, and now he knew where she was going.
"Dead or alive, you bring them back."
Shane snapped to attention and saluted. "I won't let you down, sir."
"Go with God, son. But go right now."
Shane spun about and stormed out of the TOC, his mind racing. He'd need to select the right men, the best trackers. There'd be the dogs. Food, other supplies, radioing ahead to the other Norteno outposts so that they could join the effort and perhaps cut off the fugitives. There were a hundred different details he needed to sort out in the next hour or so before he got underway—and the fugitives wouldn't stop for the night, not these people.
Excitement coursed through him. It had been so long since he had had the opportunity to hunt the most exciting prey—humans. As he entered his room, he closed the door behind him, smiling at the general's instructions. Dead or alive—what a buffoon. By this time tomorrow night, they’d all be dead. And their deaths would be long, messy, and unpleasant.
He lit a candle and drew out the locked strongbox beneath his bed, opening it with the key he wore around his neck. He lifted the lid, and his breath caught in his throat when his gaze fell upon the precious talisman inside, the candlelight glistening off the precious stones embedded in the burnished bronze armguard—the Bracer of Matriarch Hel-Ka. This talisman was by far the most valuable object Mother Smoke Heart had ever trusted him with, proof he was being groomed for greatness among the Children.
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