Fallen Stars (The Demon Accords) (23 page)

The two warlocks on the trailer flinched as my shots sparked off their protective witch shields but were otherwise unhurt.  One of the witches on the bank wasn’t so lucky.  I think she was so busy sending her energy or magic or whatever at Cooper the lead warlock that she sorta forgot about her own little dome of protection.  My thrown quarter blew through her right thigh, knocking her clean off her feet.  The little thread of black that extended from her was gone, as was the one from the witch who had fallen off the back of the trailer.  The reduced wattage was immediately apparent, as each fireball that came at me moved slower and burned dimmer.

A revving motor caught my other self’s attention, a big motor, lots of power.  Turning, I saw another big rig that had rolled to a stop behind us was now starting to move.  The driver was in the act of bailing out of his seat, his reason for doing so standing on top of the cab.  Another warlock stood there, this one with bared tattooed arms pointing down at the driver’s cab below him, black tendrils of power streaming into the controls and engine.

The big truck was gaining speed, slowly grinding a Dodge pickup out of its path, inexorably building power.  Two more cars were in its path, their occupants unaware of the behemoth bearing down on them from behind.

Other-me stepped my body directly in line with the big truck, my left hand curiously dimpling five quarters by pressing my thumb down on the President’s face and squeezing slightly.

I had no clue as to why until one of the quarters was tossed up into the air, spinning slowly to my overly sharp senses.  I could feel myself wait until George’s pressed-in face was toward the truck, then both hands clapped sharply, each hand outlined with purple aura.  The resulting crack was sharp and loud; the streak of molten plasma was eye-searing as the suddenly sun-hot coin lasered into the truck’s engine.  Two more quarters followed as fast as a New York cop could empty his gun into a drug dealer.   The truck shuddered as its engine suffered catastrophic damage with an internal whump and steam started ejecting from the gaping holes through its radiator.

A streak of brown raced toward the truck: Awasos leaping and changing from wolf to bear in midair.  Huge, curved claws tore into the top of the cab as he pulled his half-ton body onto the small space, his massive skull head-butting the warlock off the truck, off the bridge, and over sixty feet to the water below.  The cab roof crushed down under the massive weight of the big were-bear, who stood up and roared at the sky.  Then he leaped off the truck roof, blurring in mid-air to become the more agile wolf-form, and was gone into the cars, headed toward the rear bank and the witches who stood there.

My dark half took advantage of the distraction to blast another dimpled quarter at Cooper’s form.   The actinic streak of liquid metal impacted the warlock’s personal force field and slowed to a halt, still burning magnesium bright.  Cooper’s face blistered and burned just from proximity to the burning coin. 

Another flash of memory shot through my mind: a dark-haired woman in jeans, bending forward to look at a metal disc on a fence post while my grandfather’s voice said something about
explosively formed projectiles.

The image disappeared as Cooper desperately tried to step back away from the scalding heat, only to fall off the trailer and drop out of sight.

The other witches scrambled to help their fellows, the warlock left on the truck throwing feeble bursts of wind at me as cover for his fellows.  Behind me, I could hear Awasos roar at the other crew of witches, and a glance showed them running in every direction. 

Stacia’s voice reached me as I started after Cooper.  “Chris, a little help here!”

She was trying to hold a Chevy Suburban SUV and keep it from falling off the bridge.  It was almost touching the ruined big rig, which had been smashed halfway off the highway.  I covered the distance in a blur, grabbing the trailer hitch of the big car and pulling backward, adding my strength to hers.  My feet automatically held the ground like they were fastened to it somehow as my dark self helped the werewolf girl pull the SUV to safety.

“You all right?” she asked the shell-shocked soccer mom at the steering wheel.

The lady nodded, wide-eyed, her children’s faces looking out the back passenger window.

“We gotta leave.  Now!” Stacia said, whistling for Awasos.  “Get that driver to move his truck, will you?  But don’t hurt him!”

She headed for the Volvo while my body turned toward the truck and its driver, who was sitting on his ass where he’d been thrown by the witches’ magic.   My left hand grabbed his and pulled him easily to his feet.  All the witches were gone, the last of them scrambling into the woods nearest the bridge.

“Move your truck,” my deeper than normal voice said.  He just looked at me, too shocked to move.  I felt myself lean closer.  “They are after us.  If we leave, so will they!”

He nodded and stumbled toward his truck.  My body turned and headed back to the Volvo while the truck driver worked his rig enough to let our car get by.

Chapter 24

“You guys made horrible time!”

Just like that, Katrina popped up, her face peeking out of the mummy bag.  We were halfway across New Jersey, and it was just starting to get dark.

“We hit some bridge destruction in Virginia and rush hour in Harrisburg,” I said.

“You mean
construction
, half-brain,” she replied.

“He means
de-struction
Katrina, as in a full circle of witches, led by Samuel Cooper, attempting to get the book of Darkest Sorrow,” Stacia said, glancing at the vampire in the rearview mirror.

Katrina took that in and looked around the car.  Everything was mostly fine except for a small mountain of fast food bags that I had piled on her supine body.

“How’d that go?” she asked.

I handed her the iPad with the local television station’s coverage of the I-81 bridge accident.  The clip, which was several hours old, showed numerous rescue vehicles, police cruisers, and not a few black government-looking SUVs cleaning up the scene.  The reporter explained that there was valuable evidence from the terror attack, so they weren’t letting news crews get onto the bridge, which had only one lane open for the miles of built-up traffic.

“I see.  You guys don’t appear hurt. How’s the other side?”

“They took some casualties, and Cooper’s gonna need some a good plastic surgeon for his face,” Stacia said.  “There may be one dead—a warlock.”

“How about collateral damage? This news lady doesn’t really say much.”

“Some civilians banged up, but otherwise, no.  The witches had the good sense to break off when Chris and Awasos started to mess up their plans.”

“Oh hey!  Did you catch these interviews?” Katrina asked.  She turned the iPad so I could see along with her.  The reporter was interviewing the father from the Honda minivan.

“
-certain that they must have been terrorists.  But the government guy stopped them—cold.  They were launching these little missiles but he helped me get my kids out, then started shooting back at them.  He had a Glock, I think, and wore a uniform.”

“I didn’t have a Glock.  I have a Glock
tee shirt
!” I corrected, looking down at my gray pants and black shirt.

Now the reporter was talking to the soccer mom from the Suburban that almost went off the bridge.

“
Oh she was beautiful, like Cameron Diaz but prettier.  Here I am rocking on the edge of the bridge and she just shows up and grabs the back of my car, keeping it steady till her partner could get there.  Somehow they managed to drag it back. Maybe that big dog they had helped or something.  I don’t know. It’s very hard to remember… I was so scared.  But my kids and I are alive because of them,”
she said, looking at the camera as she finished.

“Really?  They think we’re heroes?  Wow, this country is getting dumb!” I said.

“I know I’m gonna regret this, but why, Chris?  What’s wrong with them thinking you two were heroes?” Katrina asked, puzzled.

“Well, Stacia maybe, but me?  I’m like some amnesia-ridden serial killer.  No idea what I’m doing or where I’m going.  Just tearing apart cars and shooting EFP’s at people.”

“What’s an EFP?” Katrina asked.

“Explosively formed projectile.  Basically a small disc of metal that is collapsed into a form of plasma moving at ultrasonic speeds.”

“How did you remember that?” Stacia asked, highly intrigued.

“
I
didn’t. 
He
did.  The other me,” I said.  They both just raised their eyebrows, exchanging a glance in the rearview mirror.  “The psycho me that you called Grim.  He seems to remember stuff.  I got some flashes of memories,” I finished.

“So you’re saying that when Grim is out, you remember stuff?” Katrina asked.

“I guess.  At least I did this time, but you’re sidetracking me.  I can’t believe those people thought I was fighting missile-shooting terrorists.”

“People see what they expect to see Chris,” Katrina said.  “If I’ve learned anything in a hundred plus years, it’s that humans excel at self-delusion.”

“She’s right, Chris.  Those people were going about their daily lives when fireballs start flying and things are exploding.  What else are they going to think, if not terrorists?  Your tricks with the quarters would easily seem to be gunshots.  Honestly, it’s better this way.  People watching TV don’t need to see witches and weres, now do they?”

“Shit!  TV!  Shit!” Katrina exclaimed, fumbling out her phone.  It started to ring before she could turn it on.

“Hi T, how are ya?” she answered, giving me an
oh shit
look.

“Hey, we’re almost to the City.  What?  Yeah, apparently a bit of a dust-up in Virginia.  It’s that book I told you about.  The witches are seriously jonesing for it.” 

She stopped talking for a moment and then handed the phone to me.

“
Christian, are you well?”
that amazing voice asked.  This time, the image of the girl with the car door popped into my head as she spoke, the same one who had been looking at the disc on the fence.

“Yeah.  Hey, I think I remember what you look like,” I said, before realizing that my words might be a touch insensitive to someone who was basically my girlfriend.

“You do?”
she asked, her voice filled with hope, which meant maybe I hadn’t offended her.

Katrina looked excited by my little admission, but Stacia frowned in the rearview before focusing on the road ahead.

“A little.  You have black hair and blue-blue eyes, right?”

“Yes, Zayka!  Yes, I do,”
she laughed, the sound rolling down my spine, giving me goosebumps… the good kind.  What was with my reaction to this girl’s voice?

“Well, I had flashes of memory when the other part of me was fighting? I think he might have better memories.”

“That is possible, my love.  Grim is from the deepest part of your mind.”

“So maybe I’ll just have to get in more fights, you know, to remember more,” I said, attempting a joke.  I was a little nervous, talking to a beautiful woman who was allegedly my girlfriend.  What if the me that met her before was different than this me?  Maybe she would lose her attraction.

“I am not liking that idea, my zayka.  I think we can just give it some time
,” she said.

“Unless I get whacked by another vampire assassin,” I said casually.  It was one of those odd thoughts that seem humorous to you but, when spoken out loud, falls flat like a drunk frat boy at a dance party.  Stacia gave me a worried look while Katrina palmed her head at my stupidity.  The girl on the phone, Tatiana, went dead quiet.  I could feel the ice right through the cell phone.

“I have taken steps in that regard, Christian.  Katrina was helpful in providing enough information on the Darkken scum who shot you.  I have expressed my anger to the rest of the Coven.  But your point is well taken.  I must go now and see to your arrival.  We will be together shortly, my love.”

“Okay, Tatiana-" I caught Katrina’s mouthed word just in time, “I mean Tanya.”

“Goodbye Christian, for the moment,”
she said before the connection ended.

“Boy, you are smooth,” Katrina said sarcastically.

“Give him a break, he doesn’t remember her… much,” Stacia said, frowning at the last word.  “How’s he supposed to know how to handle an obsessed supernatural psycho?”

Katrina actually hissed at the blonde girl before turning back to me.  “She tore apart seven vampires that
might
have been involved in the attempt on your life.  She had Nika—she’s one of the Coven’s most powerful telepaths—read every Darkken in New York till she found the guilty ones.  I’m told it was so savage, it even shocked Elders Senka and Mausya,” she said, taking a deep breath near me.  It was her second such sniff in the last few minutes.

“Okay, I don’t really know what any of that means or who any of those people are, except it sounds like she was pretty mad.  Why the hell do you keep sniffing me?” I asked as she did it again.

“I forgot how good you smell,” she said with her eyes shut and the tips of her fangs extruding over her bottom lip.