by Casey White
Slowly, half-turned on his side to keep from sticking his whole head over the ledge, Daniel peeked out into the night.
Two cars raced up the road, heading straight toward the garage they crouched atop.
“Is that them?” Olivia whispered.
Daniel chuckled. “They certainly don’t seem to fit in around here.”
“Yeah,” Olivia said. “Not enough rust.”
True enough. Daniel held himself still, watching them approach. They looked new, in a rental-car sort of way, without even a spot of rust on them. The fact they were roadworthy at all set them apart from the rest.
He lowered himself back down as the roar of their engines slowed. The two cars were stopping, pulling up to the curb in front of the garage.
Steady, he whispered to himself. Keep it together. Just wait.
Doors opened, and doors closed. Voices muttered to each other, too soft to hear, and then footsteps echoed across the night. Whoever it was, whoever they were, they scattered out around the building.
Checking the perimeter, then. Daniel smiled sourly. That checked out. If they thought they’d run him to ground, cornered and wounded, they’d want to make sure they had a hand on the situation before they charged straight in.
Somewhere beneath them, a door rattled.
“Locked,” someone said. “Figures.”
“He said this is the spot,” someone else said. “Keep trying. There’s got to be a way in.”
A shiver ran down Daniel’s spine. He recognized it immediately—the second speaker was Rickard.
“I guess,” the first speaker muttered. “Ain’t someone got a damn pick?”
The sound of someone walking drifted up to the rooftops, though. Someone was moving away. Rickard, if he had to guess. Daniel eyed the pile of bricks alongside Olivia, a bead of sweat running down the back of his neck.
He still didn’t want to hurt anyone—but now, having something hard and heavy to throw sounded like a halfway decent idea.
The low rustling of movement had dispersed by then, with only the quiet mutterings of the man trying to get through the front door left behind. Daniel hitched himself higher, shaking off Olivia as she grabbed at him, and peered back down over the half-wall.
A man fiddled with the door, brown-haired with a too-big sweatshirt on. Their two sedans waited at the curb, with a few figures lurking around them. Daniel drew back instinctively at the sight of guns peeking out from under their jackets.
A familiar figure paced just beyond, though. Indira. She strode back and forth, one hand folded into her armpit while the other pressed to her lips. Despite the dark and the distance, Daniel could see the bags under her eyes. Even the streaks of silver in her hair seemed broader, more pronounced. She didn’t say anything, but she didn’t have to—the furtive looks she shot toward the garage’s front door spoke volumes.
Daniel lowered himself back down, glancing to Olivia. “Your boss is here,” he murmured.
Olivia drooped like a puppet whose strings had been cut. “Crap. Figures.”
The rattling from below grew louder, and Daniel squirmed lower. They needed to move, and fast. Rickard and the others would probably stay distracted for another few minutes, but only up until they realized he wasn’t inside the garage. And as soon as they figured that out, they’d start looking for another explanation. It wouldn’t take them long to spot the ladders, at which point they were in trouble.
Judging by the way she squirmed in place, looking back and forth anxiously, Olivia had the same thoughts. “What should we do?” she whispered. “Did you-”
“Yeah.” Daniel bit his lip, his ears filling with the sound of the doors rattling. “Give them a minute. They’ll come.”
Or they wouldn’t. The thought wasn’t as unhappy as he’d have expected. Maybe Leon wouldn’t come to seal the deal. Maybe Maya would just drive off into the sunset, leaving them behind. Rickard and Indira would be so happy to have their hands on Alexandria that they’d never stop to worry about the others.
No one would be in danger. No one would have to fight. It could just...end
The shriek of metal against metal rang out from the back of the garage, echoed by a triumphant call.
Olivia pressed against his side, gripping his arm like her life depended on it. “T-That- They must’ve-”
“They got into the garage,” Daniel whispered. “We’re still okay.”
Probably.
A chill ran through him as the triumphant cry turned dark, surprised. They’d figured it out, then.
Daniel slid his fingers through Olivia’s, squeezing faintly. “Come on. We should-”
“What the hell do you mean, he’s not inside?” he heard Rickard cry. The sound came from the back of the building—right by the door that had just been opened. “Where the fuck is he, then?”
“Crap,” Daniel muttered, stiffening. He inched away, rising into a crouch, and Olivia followed along with him. “Let’s-”
His ears pricked. Something hummed, right at the edge of hearing. A low rumble, rising against the distant noises of civilization.
A new engine. A new car.
Lurching toward the half-wall, Daniel peered over again—and was gratified with the sight of the painfully-ordinary car rolling toward them. “Maya,” he breathed.
“They got the message,” Olivia said. He could hear the smile in her words without having to look. “Sweet.”
“Yeah,” Daniel whispered. “Then, we should be ready to move once they-”
His gaze panned down, and he froze.
The two vehicles waited at the curb where they’d been parked, and figures milled about them—but not the one they needed. Not that asshole in the coat, the one who’d sniffed at his blood back in the minigolf park.
Teeth gritted, Daniel’s eyes darted across the scene. Two men hovered around Indira, pale-faced and tense, with poorly-hidden guns in their hands. Another two strode along the sidewalk, decidedly more casual but still casting wary glances toward the garage’s front door.
Off to one side, a man stood with a rifle. That man. The one who’d put the bullet in Daniel in the first place. He seemed as casual as anything, leaning against the brick wall puffing on a cigarette.
But the damn tracker wasn’t here.
“Shit,” Daniel whispered.
Olivia’s fingers dug into his arm. “Owl? What’s wrong?”
“He’s not here.” Daniel spun, crawling away from the half-wall. Gritting his teeth, he lurched to his feet, shuffling awkwardly toward the back of the building.
Her grip on him became a vise. “You can’t. We have to-”
“If we don’t get rid of that asshole, all of this will be for nothing,” Daniel hissed. Half of his mind screamed to keep quiet, to keep his voice low. The other half just screamed.
Everything was going wrong. He wouldn’t let it.
The purr of the engine dippd lower. His breath caught in his throat. Were they waiting? Had they seen it, then—that the plan was falling apart right in front of them?
Stupid. He cursed himself, latching onto the wall lining the back edge of the garage. Idiot, to think it’d be that simple.
Pulling himself higher on arms that shook, he peeked over the edge.
“Well, he had to go somewhere,” he heard Rickard hiss. He could see the man, too, a wiry figure with a shock of close-cropped, honey-colored hair. Rickard stood a few paces back from the garage in the beaten-dirt lot behind it, pacing back and forth. The door below Daniel hung open, held by someone he couldn’t see. “Unless you got it wrong? Maybe you-”
“I ain’t wrong,” a low voice rumbled. Daniel shivered. That...was not a nice voice, rough and gravelly. Something in it just oozed disdain, as though Rickard wasn’t worth the time it took to have the conversation. “Kid’s around here somewhere.”
“So where is he?” Rickard snapped. “If you’re so sure, answer that.”
The tracker chuckled. Daniel had no doubt anymore as to the man’s
identity. “Check the place again. Blame your half-assed mundanes, not my focus.”
“You lot and your damned foci,” Rickard hissed. “Can’t you lot just-”
The sound of an engine revving hard brought him to a stop. Daniel twisted, eyes snapping wide open, just in time to catch a glimpse of Maya accelerating down the street. In the blink of an eye, her headlights vanished below the building, swerving wildly.
He stiffened, flinching, as screams rang out—followed by the sickening crunch of twisting metal.
Daniel’s ears were still ringing with the sound when chaos erupted across the scene.
First and foremost came the people yelling, which seemed to include everyone. People screamed from the scene of Maya’s destruction, although they seemed to be more angry than in pain. He was relieved to hear that, but not as much as he would have been if they weren’t trying to capture him.
So too could he hear Rickard bellowing...something. The words were lost to the chaos as footsteps pounded across the pavement.
Olivia tugged on his arm. He looked up. She was straining, trying to drag him to the edge of the roof. “Hurry,” she gasped. “We have to-”
“No,” Daniel said, and yanked his arm free. He could see her destination—the ladder hanging off the side of the building. “We can’t leave yet. We have to find him.”
Right. The tracker. He threw himself back against the half-wall, risking fate by leaning over the edge.
Rickard charged into the building just as Daniel looked out, his face contorted. “Janik!” Daniel heard him roar. “Get those screens going before-”
Gunfire erupted around the front of the garage. Daniel jumped—as did Olivia. And Rickard, he noted, watching the man backpedal out of the garage. “Janik!” he cried. “Damn it, would you-”
“I’m trying!” someone else yelped. “J-Just- Just give me a minute!” As the voice faded, Daniel caught a glimpse of the speaker—a dark-haired man, bolting toward the garage from a nearby alley. “I-Is it-”
“In,” Rickard said, just a hair shy of a growl. “Deal with this, Janik.”
The dark-haired man hesitated another moment, glancing to the still-simmering chaos ahead, but hurried in before Rickard could lay into him.
Through it all, the stormy-faced tracker lurked in the back alley, his arms folded across his chest. He stared at Rickard, unmoving. A curl of smoke drifted up from his cigarette.
Another screech of metal rang out from the front of the front of the garage. Maya’s car was moving—but not before the doors opened. Two figures burst from within, vanishing from view just as quickly. With a squeal of tires, Maya took off again.
Godspeed, Daniel willed, watching her go. His eyes lingered on the spot where the two figures had vanished.
They’d realized the tracker was nowhere to be found, then. And here Leon and James were, on the ground and in the middle of the fighting. Exactly where he hadn’t wanted them.
Even though it hurt, he tore his eyes from the distant alley-mouth, turning back toward Rickard’s group.
A flicker of movement passed in front of him. Olivia lunged for the pile of debris, scooping up a second group, and darted ahead.
“Olivia!” Daniel hissed, lurching after her.
In a second, he was back looking down at the clustered mages.
Tires screamed. He twisted, just in time to see her slam into someone—someone carrying a rifle.
His heart in his throat, Daniel watched the rifleman sail through the air, there and gone. He...He was dead. He had to be. Maya had killed him.
Because you asked her to. Because you brought them here. It’s more blood on your hands, more-
Daniel shook his head, clapping a hand over his mouth. Acid roiled in his throat.
“Was that-” he heard Rickard snap, followed by a muffled curse. “Janik!”
The hiss of something exploding split the night air, like a soda can bursting under pressure. Smoke erupted to fill the alley in an instant, swirling in thick and hazy clouds of violet.
“Go help,” Rickard hissed.
Daniel flinched at the venom in his voice, glancing down.
Rickard had closed the gap between him and the tracker, his finger hovering in front of the man’s nose. “I don’t know why you’re still standing here. We’re-”
He stopped as the tracker lifted a hand, taking the cigarette from his lips. “Did my job,” the gravelly-voiced man said. “This shit’s your problem.”
“Even our damn brewer’s fighting,” Rickard spat. The smoke billowed around him, starting to turn his outline to a vague silhouette. “If he’s in there, the least you can do is-”
“I’m a finder, not a fighter,” the tracker said. Even through the building haze, Daniel could see the disdain in his shadowed eyes. “You ain’t payin’ me to die for you.”
“But-”
“Help ‘im yourself, if you’re so desperate.” With that, the tracker took another puff. Glowing cinders fell from the end of the cigarette. The smoke faded into the clouds, disappearing entirely.
Rickard froze, his hand still uselessly pointed at the man’s nose. “God damn it,” he hissed. “Then do your damn job! Find him!”
He spun on his heel, throwing himself toward the back door. As he vanished from sight, Daniel saw him pull his jacket open—and the accompanying glint of silver as his gun came free.
And then Rickard vanished into the garage.
This is your chance, Daniel’s thoughts sang. His eyes fixed onto the tracker. The bastard was just standing there, so casual. So alone.
Before he knew what he was doing, he’d stooped to the concrete beneath, grabbing a hunk of rubble.
This was why they were here, after all. If they took out the tracker, they could escape. No one could pursue them. It’d be over.
Alexandria would be safe. For her sake, he’d do what he had to.
It’s now or never. Bracing himself, he brought his arm back, and-
His leg buckled beneath him. He gasped, biting off the sound, and fought for control of the concrete-and-stone hunk.
He’d always kept his outside-world body in good shape. All he had to do inside Alex’s walls was sit around and study, after all—so he’d stayed moving outside. What else was he going to do, study more? All of which left him decently strong, with decent coordination.
But all of that had been before someone put a bullet through his calf and then trucked him around the country for hours on end, stitching him back up in a motel room. The chunk of concrete was already leaving his fingers when his legs went limp.
No. Straining hard, he fought for control, for even a scrap of direction over his missile. With one last scrape against his fingertips, the debris left his grasp.
The sight of it slamming into the tracker’s face was impossibly, unbearably sweet. The man went down with an ungraceful grunt.
But so did Daniel. Carried forward by the momentum of his throw and his own body’s weight, he slumped over the half-wall, teetering madly.
Crap. His fingers scrabbled against the ledge, fighting for purchase.
He did manage to slow himself. Twisting in a tangled mess of arms and legs, he hung for a moment, suspended in midair.
And then he crashed down into the ground like a sack of potatoes.
The air left his lungs in a rush. Daniel sagged, gasping for breath. The gunshots filling the air were almost constant, now, but he could still hear Maya’s engine roaring off in the distance. Across the tiny parking lot, he saw the tracker twitching, struggling to raise himself to his elbows. Blood ran down his face.
Olivia hit the ground beside Daniel with a grunt. She stumbled for a moment, her arms flailing wildly, but recovered—and darted straight for the downed mage.
He saw her coming. His mouth opened, ready to scream for...something. Help. A curse.
She still had that brick in her hand, though, and she was faster. Her arm swung up.
Daniel’s eyes snapped away as the sickening, we
t crack echoed across the lot.
Panting for breath, Olivia straightened, letting the red-stained brick drop from her grasp. Her eyes were wild.
And the tracker wasn’t moving anymore.
For a moment, Daniel stared down at the unmoving body of the mage. Triumph and disgust warred in his chest. He didn’t do this. This was their fault. If they’d left him alone, none of this would have happened. Everyone would still be alive.
A scream from ahead brought his eyes whipping back front and center to the alley ahead.
The haze from the smoke bombs was thick enough he nearly couldn’t see at all—but somehow, in the clouds, he caught sight of a man backpedaling, clutching a gun.
James bore down on him, fury in his eyes. Blood soaked through his shirt from a wound Daniel couldn’t make out, but he still clutched his hammer.
He smashed it into the man’s chest with a roar that echoed all the way to Daniel. The man staggered back, bringing his arms up.
The second blow of the hammer sent him into the brick wall, going limp. A puff of dust erupted from where he hit.
James bore down on him, bellowing. That hammer of his came up again.
The third blow drove the Booklender into the alley wall hard enough to shake the building. Bits of mortar and brick tumbled down from overhead.
Daniel flinched back. “Damn,” he whispered.
That wasn’t mortal strength. That much, at least, he could recognize—and he could piece together the implications.
Another figure appeared from the clouds of smoke, though, grabbing at James’ arm.
“Go!” Leon cried, his voice muted across the distance.
James turned to him, muttering something Daniel couldn’t hear, and Leon shook his head. He turned, looking around. “We can-”
For a moment, their eyes met. Leon’s widened, and he seemed to straighten, just a little.
Go, Daniel mouthed, as clearly as he could, and flashed Leon a thumbs-up sign. Go. Go. They didn’t need to be here anymore. Their job had been finished the moment the tracker’s body hit the dirt. Now, they just needed to all get out.
A smile played at Leon’s lips—and with one hand braced as if blocking something behind them, he dragged James away.