by Al K. Line
"Could have been worse," Ivan said.
I groaned. He didn't have a clue. On cue, the car obeyed the laws of physics and bottom became top, top became bottom, as the car rolled repeatedly and we tumbled down the bank.
With a crash, we landed at the base of the bank, thankfully the right way up.
"Twat," I croaked.
The engine hissed and spat, something must have worked its way loose, and there was an almighty bang as metal tore through the engine, destroyed half the front of the car, and we were clouded with steam, or smoke, or maybe both.
"Out, now," I warned as I fumbled with my seatbelt and tried to open the door. The handle wasn't working, the frame was warped, so I elbowed the glass until it smashed, which really hurt, and clambered through the opening as Ivan did the same on his side.
We stood several feet away from the car, staring at it as oil spurted from the engine and smoke billowed out of the destroyed windows. The whole thing slowly, without fanfare, began to burn.
"Like I said. Noob."
Obviously
A burning car on the side of the road attracts attention. Emergency services would be along soon, because say what you want about the British services, the police, ambulance, and fire department were prompt. Rapid response in most cases, and knowing our luck, there'd be a car on patrol heading our way right now, leaving us with no time to lose.
Except, we had a few seconds, time enough for one very important operation.
"Chuck it in. Open that damn canister and throw the ash in right this minute." I glared at Ivan, who stood there staring at the flames while cars whizzed past, drivers ogling the chaos but thankfully not stopping.
"I can't." Ivan pulled the canister from his coat and stroked the metal absentmindedly.
"Why not? Do it now and this is over, isn't it?"
"No, it won't be. He won't burn, he'll be in there somewhere. You don't understand, don't know the full story of the ashes or what they really are."
"They're the dead remains of the first fucking vampire. A man who summoned an angel from the bloody book I got for you and made it turn him into an idiot vampire. I understand all right. But now he's ash, so chuck him in. What, you think the freaks can sift through the wreckage and find the separate bits that are his? Come on, Ivan, don't be a dick."
"It won't work. And yes, they will collect him, and whatever he gets mixed with, and he'll coalesce back into a bloody pile and then they'll do the ritual and resurrect him."
"Bull. How can he? Damn, it's not a he, it's ash. How can it group together when it's just ash?"
Ivan raised an eyebrow, like I was the one being stupid. "You need to ask?"
"Um, okay. Yeah, guess you could be right. Magic?" Ivan nodded. "The spell, the thing he summoned, the things it did to Mikalus, it's powerful. He can return. He's there somewhere, and he'll always be there. Can't be destroyed this easily. Bloody magic."
"Yes, and throwing him into a fire won't eliminate him. We need something much more potent to eradicate him."
"Like what?"
"All in good time. Secrets, remember? So you can't tell if you get caught."
"But then they'll do horrible things to my dangly bits with wires and electricity and you know how much I hate that."
"So don't get caught. I'm not telling you how we're going to do it, not yet. Not until we're actually destroying him. Let's go."
"What? Where? We don't have a bloody car."
Ivan grinned then stepped out into the road.
He stood, motionless, in the middle of the slow lane, which isn't that slow at all, and waited. He didn't have long to wait, as although it was late there was always traffic on British highways. A truck came thundering down.
"Ivan, move!"
Ivan shook his head and lifted his arms out to the side. Brakes hissed, tires squealed, and the rear of the truck jackknifed as the thankfully alert driver tried to stop and swerve at the same time.
The truck bore down on Ivan; he'd be crushed in a second. There was no way it could stop in time and the container it hauled would kill him if the cab didn't.
Closer and closer, nothing I could do about it, and then, as I peeked between my fingers when all went silent, I was amazed to see the truck had stopped before crushing Ivan. He turned to me, smiled, gave a thumbs up, then was gone, quick as a flash, around to the driver's door.
Before the poor, terrified man knew what was happening, he was dragged from the cab and dumped politely on the side of the road beside me.
"Sorry about this," I said, pulling Grace low so he couldn't get a good look at me.
"Yes, please accept our apologies," said Ivan as he brushed at the man's wrinkled khaki shirt and tried to straighten out his sleeves for him. I'm sure he was grateful.
The man stared from me to Ivan, eyes wide with fright, face ashen, knowing how close he'd come to crashing and dying. As he stared at Ivan I saw the familiar confusion descend, that already, even now, he was forgetting what Ivan looked like, found it impossible to keep him in his mind, thus the events became fuzzy, nothing clear in his head.
Taking advantage of the lapse in focus, we ran around to the cab. "I'm driving," I said hurriedly. "In you go, and scoot over."
Ivan jumped up, slid over to the passenger's seat, and I hopped in behind him. I yanked the door closed, crunched several gears until I found the right one, then slowly inched forward, straightening out the container on the trailer behind us until we were lined up on the road and good to go. There were several cars waiting now, spread across the road where they'd had to brake suddenly to avoid crashing, and this could turn into a serious pile-up if I didn't get a move on. So, wasting no time, I got us going, trashing the gears as there were an awful lot of them, but we were moving, and picking up speed, and that was the main thing.
"So, where to?" I asked calmly like we were just out for a nice drive in a fucking huge truck.
"I'll tell you when we get there, just keep driving."
"Right you are," I chirped, humming away as I got to grips with how to drive such a beastly machine.
"What are you so happy about?"
"Just enjoying a moment before it all goes pear-shaped."
"We got away, didn't we?" Ivan snapped, getting all moody.
"Yeah, but we took too long. They'll be right on us, you'll see."
And with that, several vehicles pulled up either side of the truck. Windows were wound down, men leaned out, and the shooting began.
"Blimey, that was faster than expected," I said as glass smashed and I floored it.
Problem being, British trucks were limited to their speed, but the same couldn't be said for cars.
"They found us?"
I shook my head, exasperated with Ivan. "Damn, it was going so well too." I ducked low, went as fast as I could, and hoped for a miracle. Unsurprisingly, none came.
Getting Busy
Fire engines, police cars, and ambulances sped past on the other side of the road, coming from the city. They'd deal with the fire in a few minutes so at least that problem would be taken care of.
But who would take care of our problem?
Not me. I was too busy learning how to drive a truck whilst keeping my head lower than the windows. Although, is it still a window when the glass is gone, or is it just a hole?
I swerved left and right, weaving back and forth to stop the cars moving alongside and getting an easy shot, but the truck was sluggish, not exactly designed for chases down dual carriageways. It was bloody big though, it had that in its favor, so it was easy to block the road.
"Ivan, mate, I really need to know where I'm going."
"Just head for the city, I'll tell you when to turn off."
"That's not good enough. I need to know where I'm going so I can come up with a plan. A way to shake these guys off. We can't keep driving and expect them to give up. They'll get us if we don't act, and soon."
"How can they get us? We're in a truck, they're in cars."
"Y
eah, but they have guns, and all it takes is an accident, or one of them getting a good shot, and we're—Whoa!"
I grabbed the steering wheel as it fought against me, trying to tip the truck. Something grated and as I glanced out the side mirror I saw sparks coming from underneath. I couldn't keep control and we were veering into the central reservation no matter how hard I fought.
We hit the barriers, metal tore as we scraped along, then we bumped over the divide as the barriers gave way, heading right into oncoming traffic, of which, thankfully, there was very little.
Horns beeped, we may have screamed, and with the tires shot out on one side we lost speed.
Then the trailer fishtailed out and I knew there was no way to control it.
"Hold tight, and put your seatbelt on," I said as I hurriedly buckled myself in. Ivan did as he was told and gripped the dashboard as we were lifted off the ground on the passenger's side as the trailer came alongside, dragging us with it.
And then the weight became too much for the cab to take. The world become nothing but confusion as we tipped over and were dragged screeching and screaming down the highway.
With a final crash, we came to a halt, both of us surprised to find ourselves alive.
"This is the last time I do anything with you outside your office," I said.
"I think that's a very good idea."
On Dodgy Ground
The truck blocked the entire dual carriageway. The only good thing about the whole situation was that the ash addicts had shot out the tires on the other side of the road so had gone speeding past when we crashed through the barriers. They'd have to wait for a junction to turn around and come get us, so nah to them and their foolish oversight.
What was very bad was the queue of traffic already building and the screams and angry shouts as motorists crashed into each other, probably causing several cases of severe whiplash.
"We have to get out of here," I moaned, rubbing at my neck and twisting sideways until my back cricked and hopefully aligned correctly.
"Looks like we won't have long to wait. Stay here." Ivan straightened out his shirt and jacket, smoothed slender fingers through annoyingly tidy hair, then walked right at the pile of cars as sirens wailed and a police car came speeding down the hard shoulder.
What the hell was he up to?
Ivan approached the police car as it stopped and two officers got out. They began talking, Ivan back to his usual calm, almost comatose self, the officers at first looking confident and in control, then agitated, then angry.
The usual happened, and they became confused, uncertain of anything and everything. Both scratched at their heads, fidgeting with their belts. One moved a hand to the radio at his lapel but Ivan said something and the man shook his head then his hand dropped, limp, to his side.
Ivan punched them both square in the face, one after the other, so fast I almost missed it, only the adrenaline edge making it possible to see, but it was mostly a blur of close-to-deadly force.
I ran over, aghast.
"You hit policemen? Are you nuts?"
"We need a vehicle." Ivan stared down at the unconscious men, impassive.
"There's about five of them right there," I said, pointing to the mess of vehicles and the men and women standing in groups talking and staring at us. They looked freaked, worried, and phones were being pulled from pockets. Others rushed back to their vehicles, presumably to either film us or call the police, probably both.
"This one's faster. And it hasn't got any dents."
"But it's the police, man, are you crazy?"
"We need to get away. Time to go."
"Ivan, you don't punch police officers. Do you know how hard their job is? Do you know what they do for our country? They keep people safe. They protect us."
Ivan looked at me funny.
"What?"
"Arthur, you are a wizard. A criminal, a gangster. You kill people, you steal, you deal with the dregs of humanity. You're the original wildcat wizard and you're worried about me punching two officers?"
"You just don't do it, dude. They're here to protect us."
"I must say, I'm surprised. I never took you for someone who thought so highly of our boys in blue."
"Women too," I corrected. "But yeah, they do a tough job and I don't see why people are always so hard on them."
"But we must go. They'll be here soon, more police too."
I glanced over my shoulder at the milling citizens trying to get a good shot of us, or talking on the phone, glancing our way nervously.
"Care to do the honors before we go?" I asked.
Ivan nodded then made the rounds of the people and snatched their phones too fast for anyone to protest. I sat in the passenger side of the police car and as Ivan got in and threw the phones in the back I said, "No way am I driving a stolen police car."
"Lightweight." Ivan pressed a button and the sirens whooped as he carefully drove around the two downed officers.
Ivan weaved between the truck and the central reservation then crossed the lanes where we'd crashed through. We were now behind the ash addicts and with any luck they'd have already turned around to come get us.
As we sped up, neither of us saying a word, I kept an eye out for them. Soon enough I spied them hurtling towards the crash site. This would buy us some time. Not much, but a little. They'd get information from the citizens and be after us within minutes, so we needed to get out of here, and fast.
"I just saw them pass in the other direction. You need to get us as far away from here as you can."
"Will do." Ivan put his foot down and the car reacted instantly, roaring as we hit a hundred.
I studied him for a moment as he focused on his driving. He had a stupid grin on his face and was humming.
"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" I accused.
"It is going very well," he said.
"Well!? You just nicked a cop car. You just punched two cops. That's not good. Plus the crashes, being chased. Ugh." I sank back into the seat and breathed deeply. The smell was disconcerting. It stank of officialdom, of police and cells and vast amounts of paperwork and no respect.
"I know. Who would have thought the night would be like this?"
"I did. Except without screwing with the boys in blue."
"Women too, remember? Why are you so concerned about them? I hit them, nothing more."
"Because without them the country would be in chaos. And you didn't just hit them, you nicked their car. They'll be in loads of trouble because of that."
"But you're a thief."
"I know that!" I snapped. "I know what I am. I know what the boundaries are too. I know that I live on the edge, outside the rules, and that's how I want it. How I like it. But everyone else doesn't. Everyone else wants to feel safe in their homes, not fear robbers, murderers, burglars, crime. We need people to defend us, help us, put the criminals away. Except me, of course."
"Of course. Except you." Ivan smirked.
"Don't make fun of me. Society needs order so there can be guys like us who ignore the rules. We're the outsiders, the mavericks, the dangerous people everyone else should stay away from. You know that."
"I do." conceded Ivan.
"Well, there you go then."
Ivan shook his head and kept driving.
I'd always been like this about the services. I held them all in the highest respect. Nurses, fire fighters, doctors, police, even the grumpy men and women you had to deal with when you filled in forms for some stupid official thing or other, I respected them. Knew I could never do what they did. Tow the line, do as I was told, help keep everyone safe and the country running smoothly.
They looked after us, did a hard job for little to no reward. They certainly didn't do it for the big paycheck or the admiration of their fellow countrymen. Many did it because it was the right thing to do, and that was to be congratulated, respected. That's what it was, I respected them.
Maybe I envied them too. A noble pursuit rather than c
ausing trouble.
Would I ever do such a thing? Hell no, I was having too much fun being an outsider, but sometimes, just now and then, I wished things could be different. That I'd chosen a different path.
But goddamn, life was fun sometimes. And if they only knew what they were missing the world would be a very different place indeed.
Seriously?
"Turn it off," I shouted.
"What?"
"I said turn it off."
"Spoilsport." Ivan flicked a switch and the siren ceased.
"And the damn flashing lights."
"But then nobody will move out of our way."
"I don't care. It's doing my head in, so turn it off."
Ivan did as he was told, a first, and I let the silence envelop me for a moment. Ah, beautiful peace. Ivan slowed and I let the edginess subside. The noise and speed were grating on my nerves, forcing adrenaline to rush through my system without respite, and the worse it got, the more I'd crash.
A deep, enticing lethargy came over me instantly, promising sleep and oblivion that I couldn't let take me, not yet, not for a while. This was too much. I'd been going for too long with just a short sleep between bouts of insanity, and it was well and truly taking its toll. I felt like half a man, a broken wizard verging on collapse.
How much longer could I keep this up? For a while. I'd done worse, put up with more sleep deprivation in the past, but this felt different somehow, like there was a lot more to lose. It wasn't just that Penelope was waiting for me at home, it was something else.
This time it was personal. Yes, that was the difference. Normally when things got hairy it was in a more general, let's-kill-Arthur kind of sense. This time the baddies weren't just out to get me to take back what I'd stolen, but to do horrible things to me. Cerberus had actually kidnapped and tortured me, and it was hard to make sense of that. It went against what I knew, or thought I knew, of their ways. They were desperate to get the ashes, that was obvious, but there must be something more to it.