“My mom suggested I would be the one to stop the war.” I laughed, unsure why I was telling him that. “She was wrong, I guess.”
Drake tilted his head, frowning at me as he pursed his lips briefly. “No, not wrong, more probably the timing was off or perhaps the prediction wasn’t read in the right way.”
“I’m not a hero. I didn’t even kill Ivana. Wyatt did.” And I was still a little miffed about it, unable to keep the anger from slipping into my words.
“You might get your chance yet.” He shrugged. “You and I both know that predictions are not easy to unravel. You may find yourself detoured on your little journey home.”
“This is ridiculous,” I said as I slung the bag over my shoulder and turned toward the door. “The only detour I’m making is to my client’s house, then it’s straight to the academy.”
Drake laughed lightly. “Oh, Kali. Even you know it’s not going to be that simple.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
We loaded up several duffle bags of weapons in silence, Wyatt grinding his teeth the whole time. I knew this because I could hear the irritating sound whenever I brought another few weapons for him to load into the bags.
“Doesn’t that hurt your teeth?”
He was putting me into a crap mood. Not that we had anything to celebrate, marching out to a war we knew very little about. But still, I felt like I’d been ripped off somehow. We’d reconciled. Made love for the first time in years. Not fucked this time, actually made love. And here he was grinding his teeth.
“What?” He slid a blade from its sheath, checked the edge with his thumb.
I zipped up one of the bags. “Never mind.”
He snapped the blade back into place, then tossed it into the bag. “Drake call in his boon?”
I zipped another bag, shook my head then hoisted two from the table. “Nope. Not yet. For a second there I thought he was going to. Was worried he’d want something hard-core. Time travel, sheesh. Like I’d want to go back in time. Going through hell once was enough.”
I was trying to make a joke. It fell flat. Of course.
“That guy is a loon. Plan and simple,” Wyatt said, his voice gruff. He heaved his two bags off the table and motioned with his head for us to walk.
“He’s not totally crazy… He said—”
“Enough, okay. Time travel is stupid and dangerous. For him to even suggest it was irresponsible.” He stopped to pick up the bag with my grimoire, slipped it over his shoulder, then continued past me out the door.
I stared at his back, frowning. I hadn’t really thought Drake was serious about the time travel talk. No more than anyone musing about what ifs would be. Everyone knew it was forbidden and dangerous.
What was I expecting though? Wyatt had always been an enigma. I shook my head, following him out the door. If I was a seer, I’d be in his brain in a heartbeat. Figure the man out once and for all. Crack his skull open and take a peek.
It was all silence again while Wyatt loaded the back seat of the truck with two of the weapons bags. He tossed the one with my grimoire on the passenger side for me to deal with. When he jumped onto the bed of the truck and opened the cargo box, he grunted in surprise.
I looked over the side and saw that the box was full. “What’s all that?”
He rummaged through it, opening bags, pulling things out. “Looks like someone stocked us up.”
Billy. I didn’t have to say it, and by the growing tension in the garage, I knew Wyatt was thinking the same thing.
Food, gasoline, even some clothes. I felt a pang of regret. Billy really was a good man.
Wyatt grunted a few more times when he shoved everything back in, then jumped down and forced the other weapon bags we’d packed into the back seat. There wasn’t a ton of room there, but he managed it somehow.
“Ready to get the hell out of here?”
I nodded, made to get into the truck when the garage door started rolling up. I shot Wyatt a questioning look only to see him doing the same at me.
One of the SUV’s rolled in, the garage door closing behind it. Sam was climbing out of the passenger side before the truck had come to a stop.
“I thought you might be gone by now!” she shouted over the roar of the engine seconds before Clive killed it.
I hugged her, knowing I’d probably never see her again. Regretting that I hadn’t spent any time with her in the past couple of years. It seemed stupid now. I mean, I had my reasons why I left the Union, but I shouldn’t have separated myself from Sam and Clive. They were my friends. I shouldn’t have wasted that time.
Hindsight, though, it was a bitch.
“It’s pretty bad out there,” she said when we pulled away from one another. Both of us doing a good job fighting back the tears. “Like, super fucking horrible bad.”
“Anything more specific than that?” Wyatt grumbled as he came around the side of his truck. “How are the roads? Is the human military out? What kind of organization is happening? How much damage is there?”
“The back roads are okay, clear, but risky at times. Anything isolated is a trap. City center is like last night, more damage though. Cars blocking intersections. A lot of bodies.” She sucked in a deep breath, shook her head, let it out again. “Casualties on both sides. It’s hard to tell who to fight. Basically just going with the offensive right now. If you come at me, I’m going to kill you, kinda thing. No room for mistakes here. There are supernaturals out there who can kill with a wave of the hand.”
“Witches? Any more hybrids?” I asked, not knowing how to sort this information.
Usually with wars, there was a good side and a bad side—not so much in this case. I mean there definitely was a bad side, but it wasn’t clear who was on it or how to identify them. They blended in, camouflaged to look like humans, but each packed deadly force without the need of visible weapons.
“I haven’t seen any more hybrids, but how would I know really? Billy said they can walk during the day if they’re topped up right?” Sam shrugged. “There’s some power, not everything is gone. Transformers blew all over the place last night, some lines are down. Crews went out to fix them, they were attacked, doesn’t look like there’s any plans to repair for the time being. Not until the danger is gone. Which may be never.” She sighed. “Like I said, no room for mistakes. Not even giving in to the humanitarian approach at this point. Wounded are being left to their kin or friends. The human emergencies services are overwhelmed and first responders are getting killed. They’ve pulled back thankfully. There are a few fires here and there, no fighters to put them out. It’s kind of like a standstill in some parts, with sporadic fighting or attacks. I think everyone is waiting for something.”
“For a declaration of war?” Or for someone to start bombing? I wondered if the human government had figured out what they were facing yet. A large scale electrical disaster was one thing, but all of those deadly supernatural creatures coming out of the closet would be something they’d never have been prepared for.
“You’ll be able to get to your client’s house without much hassle I think. Just drive straight though, don’t stop for anything.” Sam nailed me with one of those looks, the kind that meant business. “I mean it, if it looks bad, turn your eyes away. You stop and you’re dead.”
I glanced at Wyatt, who nodded agreement. “No stopping, got it.”
Sam nudged my arm and I turned my gaze back to her. “I got this for you.” She held up a leather satchel. “Billy said you might want it.”
I frowned as I took the bag, pulled the drawstring and peered inside. Oh God, the stench. “You got Ivana’s heart?” I snapped my wide eyes up to hers. “You risked your life for this?”
“You need it right? Give your clients something to take their revenge on? There’s a spell, if I remember correctly.” She was shrugging and acting sheepish.
“You’re crazy!” I couldn’t help but smile though. She’d risked her life so that I could finish my job. There was a spell. One that would help my clients rest their vengeance.
“Stupid,” Wyatt said as he turned away, walking to his side of the truck.
Sam ignored him and hugged me again. “We’ve got to get back out there. Try to make sense of what’s going on. Billy is attempting to touch base with the human authorities. See how willing they are to listen at this point.”
I pulled back and smiled down at her. “You’re a great friend, Sam.”
“I owe you my life, lady. This is the least I can do.” She moved a step away, brushed her hand over the top of her shaved head. “Take care of yourself out there, okay? I wasn’t joking when I said it was bad. Watch your back.” She glanced in Wyatt’s direction. “His too.”
I nodded. “You too, Sam.”
“And, Kali?”
“Yeah?”
“There’s no shame in coming back here, you know. If you think it’s too risky to attempt a trek, which personally, I do. You’re always welcome back here. Both of you.”
I nodded, my throat tight as I heaved myself up into the passenger side of the truck, not trusting myself to actually speak until we’d cleared the garage and were out on the road.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
It didn’t look that bad, if you squinted and pretended not to see anything.
Even in the early morning sun, the devastation made goose bumps rise. We were not safe. No one was.
The roads were clogged with overturned cars, rubble from giant holes in brick buildings, body parts, whole bodies, burned bodies. You name it, it was there.
I felt like we’d left the United States, entered some third world country. Buildings half torn down, glass crunching under the tires as Wyatt maneuvered around things. The metropolis in flames, slowly being consumed in pockets where there wasn’t someone to douse it. There was water pouring from hydrants left on, presumably by fighters who were now dead. Doing nothing to quell the fires that burned and burned, flooding parts of the streets, sweeping gore through the city as the flames jumped from one building to the next.
I gasped involuntarily a few times. My mouth hanging open. Wyatt was silent as usual. His gaze hard and straight-ahead. I couldn’t even begin to know what he was thinking.
There was movement among the debris. I thought I saw flashes of things, tricks of the eye maybe, paranoia, probably. I pulled a shotgun from the back along with some shells, loaded it quickly then propped it out of my open window, just in case. It was creepy, this new world order, and I wasn’t going to take any chances.
Like Sam had said, shoot first, ask no questions—just get the hell out of there.
We didn’t have far to travel, but what would normally have taken twenty minutes took an hour. The giant divots out of the pavement slowed us down just as badly as the mess of other things. The blood was unreal. Rivers of it, it seemed, stained the asphalt with its congealing goo. The smell of outside was rank.
“What makes you think they’re going to answer the door?” Wyatt grumbled, his voice startling me from my gruesome watch.
“Huh?”
“Presuming they’re even there still, or alive.”
“They live in an upscale community. They have security cameras. They’ll recognize me.” I hoped.
Both of my clients were powerful witches in their own right. Mrs. Curtis, an elemental, as her daughter had been—able to manipulate nature, weather, things like that. Mr. Curtis was a spell weaver, could intertwine spells into practically anything. Both had been trained at the academy, had left to pursue a life outside of civil service.
“That’s your grand plan? Walk up to the gate and hope they let us in?” He shook his head, both hands tightly clenching the top of the steering wheel. “Seriously, Kali, have you given this any thought at all?”
“I’m not in the mood for a lecture, okay, Wyatt?” I pulled the gun back inside as Wyatt turned down the street my clients lived on. Each house was larger than the next, separated by masses of lawn, everything gated. The entire community seemingly untouched.
“Rich people riding out the storm in their panic rooms.”
“Or already dead.” I pointed at the mangled gates of the house we were passing, looking down the long driveway to a mansion with front doors blown wide open.
With the exception of the entrance, it seemed untouched, but looks could be deceiving.
We rounded the shallow curve, my client’s house just on the far side.
“Oh my God,” I breathed.
The house had been almost completely obliterated. Like roof gone, some walls down, areas still smoldering. It looked like a tornado had sideswiped it with the debris that covered most of the front lawn.
“Holy shit!” Wyatt pulled the truck over to the side of the street, his hands still on the steering wheel, fists clenched so hard they were turning white. “I take that back. No way anyone survived this.”
And yet…
I frowned as a touch of magic teased at my awareness. What was this? I sent out a small pulse and got a whooper back. Mrs. Curtis was in there. “There’s a signature. The mother, Joanne. She’s alive, maybe trapped.”
Wyatt was already shaking his head. “Oh no, no way, Kali. That’s not part of the deal. We’re not going in there.”
“She might be trapped!”
“Or she might be the trap!” Wyatt shouted back. “Ever think of that?”
I glared at him as I hoisted my shotgun up and put my other hand on the door handle. “I’m going to check it out. You can stay here and be a pussy if you want.”
With a brief thought, I scooped up a handful of shells and shoved them in my pockets, then opened the door, not bothering to look back, I crossed the street toward the Curtises’ driveway.
The crunch of tires on the road followed me as I walked. I could practically hear Wyatt cursing me as he trailed behind. I knew it was probably irking him even more that I didn’t just get back into the truck and let him drive us to the house.
The spell signature was stronger when I approached what used to be the front walkway leading to the vestibule. Wyatt got out of the truck, slamming the door behind him, letting me know he was pissed.
“Mrs. Curtis?” I called softly at first, poking my head into the front entrance archway, shotgun up and ready, leading the way. The door had been blown backward, its remains scattered in large bits across the marble floor of the foyer. The staircase, which had been a grand sweeping affair, was gone as well. In fact, the entire second floor seemed to have collapsed backward, opening the house up to the sky.
Magic had done this. I had no doubt. Even though the only magic I could feel was Mrs. Curtis’s, there was an underlay of power teasing me to take a closer look.
I picked my way over the broken glass, furniture, marble, plaster. The house groaned. It shuddered. It was dying too. Ready to come down on us, swallow us whole.
“This is a stupid fucking idea,” Wyatt growled from behind me. “No way anyone survived this.”
“Shh,” I whispered, my tracking spell pulling me toward the left and what used to be the kitchen. The place where I’d first met with the Curtises. Where I’d been offered tea. Where Joanne Curtis had sobbed over her daughter’s recent death. Where I’d vowed to catch the murderer.
The faintest of noises caught my ears. Just a little squeak, like a mouse but not a mouse. The kitchen was dark, piles of debris blocking the doorway so I had to climb up, one hand bracing the wall, my shotgun still in the other.
“Mrs. Curtis? Joanne? It’s Kali. Kali Richards. Can you hear me?”
Another squeak. I turned to the left, slid down the side of the wall, sweeping my gun back and forth, squinting into the dark, the roof of the kitchen still intact. Most of the windows that had opened onto a patio were blocked with
giant pieces of fallen house. It was like a cave of destruction.
“I’m here.” There was a breath, a whimper.
I lowered the gun and rounded a pile of wood that looked like it had been a table, and there she was. Upon first sight, she looked perfectly okay. Her blonde hair was in tangles, framing her head in waves, her eyes wide, lips moving in silent whispers.
And then I trailed my gaze down and had to fight not to gasp. Her lower body was covered by a huge slab of marble, blood pooled to the side, guts slipping out like a morbid dinner in the process of being prepped.
There was no fixing this. Not even the strongest healing magic could help her.
Wyatt steadied me as I swayed, his hand on my arm holding me up. He’d been right.
“Go get Ivana’s heart,” I said to Wyatt, my gaze never leaving her. Time was limited here. I needed Joanne to have some peace before she died.
I expected him to argue. Instead, he nudged me forward, then turned and left.
I moved toward her, bending so I could get closer, reaching my fingers past the gore of her exposed intestines to the hand that lay upturned, bent by her shoulder. She was cold. So very cold.
“Joanne,” I whispered and I clasped her fingers with mine. I laid my gun at my side, within reach but out of her sight.
Her eyes were dull. She turned toward me, the light faded to practically nothing. “Where is George?” she whispered. “He was here a minute ago.”
I frowned as I shot my head up, scanning the area. Mr. Curtis had been here a minute ago? I pulsed a tracking spell out, but it came back with nothing. I laid Joanne’s hand down to the floor then stood, craning my neck to see past the huge pile of wreckage.
His body was flayed. That was the only way to describe it. Skin practically gone, muscles exposed, even his face, bits of bone poking through. He lay as if nailed to a cross, arms splayed, feet together, positioned in such a way to suggest a slow, painful death.
The Dark War: The Dark War, Book 1 Page 20